Serenading light’s rising,
waking at a first feeble glimmer
creeping from the east.
Each bird a separate voice
whole body singing from tails depth.
Performing a duty since the original melodious call
heralding dawns radiance
thankful for a daily miracle.
Worshipping warmth’s return
and the new day.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Newborn day appears with hands of flowers
The sun enthroned with rose
Has banished invidious night
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Today I’ve arranged to breakfast with the sky
we haven’t been talking much lately and
so need some alone time together
in her lovely blue halls cushioned with fluffy cumuli
although blue is probably not her best colour
at breakfast, she’s more into yellow and rose.
Trouble is, she gets up so early and those of us who
don’t need to rise for work tend to sleep in….
I wonder if that’s why she’s been so distant to me?
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
So how is dawn for you?
Do you whisper gently
as the night dies
or do you shout with joy at the chances
a new day can bring?
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Caterpillar dawn
creeps across the ocean
slithers into night’s domain
eating the dark
Chrysalis clouds and rain
obscure daylights return
but butterfly day
will spread her wings
ragged and soft to begin
stiffening into glory
Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Reaching out into light from nightmare
a promise of hope
skitters against the closed window
It seems as if night has eaten my bones
I lie listless, captive
time moves sideways into morning
Daylight thickens, enters my lungs
animates and quickens
Another new day……
Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Serenading light’s rising,
waking at a first feeble glimmer
creeping from the east.
Each bird a separate voice
whole body singing from tails depth.
Performing a duty since the original melodious call
heralding dawns radiance
thankful for a daily miracle.
Worshipping warmth’s return
and the new day.
Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond
I would like to share this wonderful poem by Louis Faber with you:
Tomorrow the morning
will arrive as it always does,
eating the last vestiges
of night, painting the sky
in puce and crimson.
It will foretell the rain
that will carry our dreams
down the hill
and into storm sewers,
eventually to wash into the lake.
But in that moment
when the sky is ablaze,
none of that matters,
save the beauty of dawn.
Dawn creeps across the land
Shining her pale light into nests
Causing baby birds to call for food
Dormice to rub their eyes and blink
Ants to speed up their hurrying and scurrying
She reaches up to wash the sky with pale blue
And a hint of rose at the east
And , as a special treat today, the west
Smiling to herself as the world awakes
She feels a certain self satisfaction as the Sun
With a near audible plop
Detaches itself from the horizon
Then like any other woman
Readies herself for a busy day
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
First published on In Between Hangovers: https://inbetweenhangovers.wordpress.com/2017/01/24/dawn-creeps-across-the-land-by-kim-whysall-hammond/
It is always dawn and dusk
Time moves on geographically
The terminator line marches inexorably
Round and round the planet
Smoothed across the sparkling Pacific
Cut to shreds by jagged mountains
Rippled across desert dunes
Unnoticed in the mega-cities
Each second brings a thousand tiny awakenings
A thousand tiny refugees from sleep
A thousand predatory opportunities
A thousand closings
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Previously published on In Between Hangovers
