Morgan Song


day is rising in the east, darkness takes
its own lethargic time plodding westward,
routed by a hesitant red orb, fire
to light the day, to race along the crests
of cloud banks drifting hazily, languidly
across lazuline fields of diaphanous
dreams racing away for the day to return
some night soon or later.     awake but hazy
she lifts her coffee to an absent lover,
mutters her good-morning, and sips a toast
to the day to come, to its hopes, to its
success and wonder   .   .   .   miracles,     she prays
to herself,     manifest every day.     else-
where, he gazes skyward, smiling her name.

David M Pitchford
2 Nov 2011

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3 thoughts on “Morgan Song

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