Daylight changes
as winter dissolves into spring,
trees shedding their ice
in the warm air.
I stir in my cave,
having digested the dreams
and phantom shadows,
hungry now for color.
It is the world I rise to
and the green lens
I look through
to know my place
on the endless shore.
Beauty signals
from budding branches,
the sound of birds returning,
worms breaking ground.
Tender comes the morning
as if these few hours
were a nativity,
the sacred born
again and again
from the darkness
of the blessed earth.
photograph by Kinga Biro
Reading of “Sacred Born” with music by Maryliz Smith
~ 🙏🙏🙏 ~
Most exquisite, Don. Your words, audible with Maryliz’s music, are a moving complement, and evoke the spirit of “tender comes the morning.” I am in love, and grateful.
Evocation
Poignant and real!
March 28, 2021
Don, yes, the blessed earth. Being in Portland this week gives your poem extra significance. Thanks.
Perfectly clothes the moment, lifting the spirit and settling in peace. Thank you!
Oh, for the joy of the beauty and profoundness of life’s amazing cycles generation after generation.
Thanks Don. SO SO beautiful.
Keith
Lovely Don! Searching for what has heart and meaning and the hope of Spring.
How wonderfully evocative, Don!!!!
“Hungry for color”. Yes dad🌺
Many sweet phrasings here Don — little poems everywhere — the tenderness is eternal, always now — praise for the morning, for sharing these things within this space, native to our soul.
Everything and Everyone New. Our season to shed what doesn’t belong, and bring forth new beginnings that entice and reflect our sun.