It could have been any morning,
But it wasn’t
Familiar cup, warm with coffee
Cradled in my artist’s hands
My walk to the marsh
Familiar earth
Grasses move slightly
But the dew drops stay
Jewels on a slender stalk
Nothing new, except everything
My girl, my first born, has left
Her wings dry now, and ready for flight
Learning to be her own artist self
Professors her teachers
My role jarred loose
The fingers of time have pried me free
And my son, young man
Climbed behind the wheel
Turned the key
Not beside me anymore
On our way to school or the game
It could have been any morning,
But it wasn’t
Everything has changed
A shift, new skin, new vibrations
And yet the sun
In its brilliant audacity
Rises again
Just like any morning
So bright, my eyes hurt
The dew drops begin to move
By the sun’s relentless power
Sometimes I hate the sun
Reminding me that what once was seismic
Has now passed
The sunrise returns, nothing new
It could have been any morning
But it wasn’t
Not for me, not in my soul
Sue Ready
lovely images borne by raw emotions
HealingJourneys
Thank you Sue! It was great to see you the other night….. happy writing.
Bev Bachel
What a powerful poem! Love the title…which seems just the opposite of what one would expect on a subzero MN day.
HealingJourneys
Thank you Bev for visiting my site too and for the kind words. I have been writing up a storm but haven’t posted in a while. A posting is on its way tomorrow. Hugs to you.