Life singers,

Composers of the morning song,

Allow me faith to sing

Tunes cradled when the wind

Whistles down hillside.

 

The dawn comes eager as a two-year child;

Good days I am that child.

It's heaven's breathing stirs cotton clouds,

Lets me sing louder still.

When trees sway to the turning of our planet,

Bending from their hips, limbs over head,

Their sensual beckon

Lets my throat sing out.

 

The city wakes:

Grumbles, honks, and automobiles' blare from

Engine noises

Flense my fears that let go of melodies.

Blind me to grimaces and sneers

From displeased ears,

Welcome my heart's croon

As I share spirits' music

That flows from endless depth and height,

That colorfills my eyes, squeezes sense of touch.

 

I'm running now from door to door

Leave flyers that proclaim the day.

I stand not still enough for any answer.

Ring bell, knock twice, hum "I'm gone."

 

©Timothy Wright

11/25/2014