Not a Morning Person

Not a Morning Person

Morning starts with the raucous music of birds,
like a choir with too many sopranos.
I rouse myself from sheets tangled as if
I survived a shipwreck during the night and
stumble awkwardly down stairs that seem to
descend into the center of the Earth.
Only the whistle of the tea kettle, like a siren
call to a sailor, keeps me on course to the
kitchen and your smiling face – a beacon
into the safe harbor of your arms.

Amid Chaos

PAD 14 – from where I’m sitting

Amid Chaos

The morning sun slants through the kitchen window where
I sit,
surrounded by the lacey pattern the shadows make on the the wall.
Amid
the calmness of morning bird calls, Bach, and tea there is
chaos
at the bird feeder. Finches and sparrows battling for position, not
waiting
their turn – for theirs is a battle of survival not a negotiation
for peace.

waltmarie poetic form

https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/2021-april-pad-challenge-day-14

Early Morning Snapshot

Early Morning Snapshot

There was just a slight film
Of ice on the birdbath
Evidence of exposure to
A cold snap overnight
From the fog covered window
of my dark room I wipe a
small aperture from which
to view the depth of the field
beyond the fence
as I watch a cardinal bursts from
the bare branches of an
old oak tree in a flash of red

Tweetspeak Poetry prompt – use vocabulay from an occupation

I chose photography

Also linked at Imaginary Garden with Real Toads –

Morning Gloria

Poetic Asides – Nov chapbook challenge

Day 1 – write a New Day poem

~

Morning Gloria

morning sashays in like
a woman in a red dress
who knows everyone is watching
she pushes the darkness
into a corner where it will
cower until her glow turns
and strolls away

Friendship

Weekend Mini-Challenge: Out of Your Own Words
I’m using the line, solitude is my friend, from my poem Simply Me

~
Friendship

solitude is my friend
she sits quietly beside me
holding my hand
whispering in my ear
telling me my words matter

solitude is my friend
she nudges my muse
into wakefulness when
morning slips through
the kitchen window

solitude is my friend
she sits quietly beside me
as night steals the light
comforting me with her presence
until sleep taps me on the shoulder