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

2 thoughts on “Morning (Sonnet)

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