Morning

an ancient copper bell
burnished by the history
of thousands of hands
–
a forest shrine-
autumn mist clings
to the hillside

running through the woods
peep frogs fall silent as I
pass by unannounced
–
frozen breath-
the sun rises
to greet me

goose down sleeping bags
the morning mist rises as
we share the sunrise
–
breaking sunlight-
our bedroom window
kissed by frost

a carpet of frost
woven from the morning dew
spreads across the grass
–
wrought iron trellis-
late autumn roses
frosted with white

hands neatly folded
pinstripe suit and crisp linens
so properly posed
–
early sunday morning-
freshly turned earth
and rough sawn pine

a black bitter pill
taken with a glass of bile-
so hard to swallow
–
november morn-
the push is over
now I taste salt.

warm morning sunlight
the dawn breaking in the trees
over frosted vines
–
plumes of breath-
the starlit
ice wine harvest

a warm autumn glow-
dawn clouds steeped in honey spill
across the ocean
–
daybreak-
sunlight dances
on the wave tops

just another day
thoughts and prayers for the dead while
no one does a thing
–
a quiet morning-
evil flourishes
in the silence

the full predawn moon
resting above the changing
autumn canopy
–
evening chill-
the moon dressed
in alabaster