As stated in my last post, I’m starting a new series of poems about various times of the day. Now that Sunrise is complete, here is Morning. Next is Noon, Evening, Sunset, Dusk, then Midnight.
Previously, I’ve shared poems written about waking up (or, more correctly, sleeping in) and forgetting a dream, but this sonnet is strictly about the feeling I get nearly every morning — excitement, but also fear at wasting potential.
Sleep tried to hold me captive there Between light and oblivion. But fresh from night, morning air Freed me from that meridian. Baptized in the darkness, earth Is moist and fresh and young. Alive in light, it breathes and stirs And speaks in gentle tongues. It makes me feel as if I can Ride triumphant into battle. I could if I obeyed the plan And didn’t lock the shackles. The morning stretches in the breeze With unknown possibilities.
Thanks for reading! Have a wonderful week.
Text and photo by Kimba Wisotsky