Morning: a poem

“Those who dwell among the beauties and the mysteries of the earth are never alone or weary of life.” – Rachel Carson




I caught it once,

that small, delicate pause:

a hummingbird moth

kissing a white flower

just as the last stars were fading

and the soft exhalation of the day

tumbled forth.

There was no fanfare,

no glorious sunrise –

just a quiet voice which whispered:

Listen; the earth

dreams through you.

8 thoughts on “Morning: a poem

  1. Hi Caroline, this is beautiful and stopped me in my tracks. I’ve just sat here absorbing the incredible imagery your words invoked. Wow! Thank you.

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