Gray, overcast skies
Precious rain descends
Morning’s gentle spirit
Welcome back dear friend
Time’s hands standing still
Serenity shares
Fine mist of heaven’s grace
View from kitchen chair
Songbirds’ harmony
Nearby thicket sings
Always perfect pitch
Soft feather’s bowstring
Everlasting gift
Calm shower transcends
Sweetness cascading down
Thank you dearest friend
Grateful for this day
Filled with freshest hope
Morning calls, “Come again”
Now, down periscope
A bird doesn’t sing because he has an answer–he sings because he has a song.
Color is something we see with our eyes, but love is something we see with our heart.
Joan Walsh Anglund (1926-2021) was an American poet as well as a writer and illustrator of children’s books.
Morning’s freshness rises
Crooning familiar tune
Harmonizing each voice
Daylight now covers moon
Sunrise wakens landscape
Energizing life’s lease
Stirring every creature
Dawn’s breath sharing her peace
Robin redbreast flies in
Sharing first taste of spring
Closing winter’s last page
Transition’s chorus sings
Timid flora bravely stirs
Pushing up, not by chance
Adding fresh touch of green
Innocent day shall dance
Nature’s steady heartbeat
Craving season’s flavor
Looking toward summer
More blessings to savor
Wilderness visits
Color fills each rendezvous—
Whispers of changes
Every gentle breeze
Landscape’s choreography—
Spirit’s harmony
Day of cloud watching
Imagination’s sketches—
One more masterpiece
Peering into endless darkness
Fearing night’s disquieting steps
Hiding in wilderness shadows
Hearing distant tap at doorstep
Searching horizon, now silent
Missing gracious slice of moonlight
Looking into starless abyss
Galloping toward hidden knight
Catching glimpse of advancing dawn
Feeling comfortable with fate
Focusing on ember of light
Opening journey’s final gate
Reaching intended rendezvous
Bring peace to life’s blessed love
Sharing from adventure’s story
Finding early sunrise above
Clouds migrate away
Sunrise circulates her warmth—
Morning’s chill escapes
Dancing tree branches
Harmony’s rhythmic movements—
Breath of turbulence
Overcast all day
Gray canvas waits with patience—
Sunset paints with light
The inspiration for this poem comes from a photograph published on Jan’s blog in her “Wordless Wednesday” post. Check out her site for some wonderful poetry, inspiration, photography, and so much more. There is probably a hint (yes, definitely) of the rustic and tranquil life experienced in the small communities of western Montana.
Photo by Wiriyah Ruechaipanit on Pexels.com
Picturesque, isolated hamlet
Resting below mountainous shadows
Nestled along lake’s calming fingers
Life’s narrative writing tranquil prose
Sunrise crawls over the mountaintop
Cruising silently in their small boat
Early to rise anglers find their spot
Baiting hooks for trout with rainbow coats
Soon village shops begin to open
Curious shoppers fill crowded streets
Welcoming Farmers’ Market today
Locals selling homegrown goods and treats
Later, stillness returns to the town
Sunny, summer day comes to an end
Sun setting behind lake’s dozing shore
Waiting for tomorrow’s best friends
Photo by Maximilian Münzl on Pexels.com
Originally published May, 2020.
Dawn now arriving
Stars fading above
Gentle morning breeze
First light’s breath of love
Moonlight vanishing
Shadows fade away
Landscape awakens
Sunrise finds its way
New day beginning
Ready to engage
Consistent rhythm
Nature turning page
Daylight now stirring
Tree leaves splashed with dew
Lofty choir warms up
Songbirds out of view
Harmony singing
Each familiar tune
Daybreak’s dance ending
Soon comes afternoon
Dawn’s blanketing peace
Nourishing heart’s emptiness—
Hope welcomes daylight
Sunrise warming heart
Tender peace brightens within—
Positive outlook
Silence fills sunset
Whispers swirled with lasting peace—
Heart’s most precious gift
Man is never perfect nor contented.
The human mind delights in grand conceptions of supernatural beings.
Jules Verne (1828-1905) was a French novelist, poet, and playwright. Several of his novels became classics, and two of his finest works are listed in the quotes above. His writings were highly skilled in their technical aspects, even though his vision was years ahead of his lifetime.
Big Sky Buckeye 