Good morning
By Dawn Illsley
Roaring wind lulls me to another place.
Quiet breathing in the margins of my mind.
Pressing thoughts, bossy and demanding,
yank me from my reprieve to reality.
There’s a call for spring outside the window.
An urgent call from a little bird whose hungry.
Then out comes the sun, like a little answered prayer.
The light creeps across the room,
Warming the spot on the floor,
Soon to be occupied
By a little furry beast,
Desperate for warmth.
On the windowsill,
The pink blooms are dried up,
Not the end,
But it seems hopeful for more.
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