The morning, lit with tones of black and white,
has yet to finish last night’s dream;
which, for the moment is smack-bang right
in the wake of a somnambulant’s scream.
The dawning, there at daybreak’s edge,
takes delight in stretching time’s dimension
beyond the border and over the hedge
into a suspended realm of comprehension.
The warning, with powers of sharp alarm,
resists the urgent clang of thund’rous bolts,
renders a response that’s measured and calm;
favouring the whisper that gently jolts.
The best of days begin without surprise;
preparing greener pastures for bluer skies.
© Tim Grace, 12 December 2023
About the Creator
Tim Grace
A first impression has a lasting effect - it makes a notable difference. In a subtle way that’s who I am as a poet. A ‘first impression’ looking for the gentle ‘twist’ that draws attention to a novel observation.
Comments (1)
This was so divine. Beautiful poem!