Tag Archives: dawn

Chorus

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

Breakfast

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

EOS

I would like to share this wonderful poem by Louis Faber with you:

an old writer and his words

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.

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Dawn creeps across the land

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/

Terminator Line

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