Oh on this most ordinary of ordinary morns
As we watch the sun struggle to be free of mist and haze
Let our beings be light
As we’ve risen before
To embrace this day
Tighter than the last
And the last before that.
Make it ours
Really make it ours
To seek all that is love
And make peace with what resides in our hearts
As the non-promise continues to be
That the sun shall choose to greet us
In the morrow of the morn.
Photo by me with my Nikon D750/Nikkor lens 28-300
The morning belongs to dreamers.
Who watch the world come alive
Through sleep-blurred eyes.
Before the doers wake
As dreams are born
In heaven’s promise and coffee’s warmth.
Hidden light plays with shapes
As lack of motion echos sound
Sky’s puzzled pieces shift and slide
A dizzying dance
As wispy clouds whisper
Together. Then apart.
While doers still slumber
planets and stars glisten
as they shine on faith,
And hues of blues
Paint the day with promise
And with hope.
As bedroom lamps
And dreams begin in morning’s light.
So soon. Summer sings a finale. Autumn sneaks silently determined.
Good morning world! Glad to see you’re all okay!
Taken from the reflection in a mud puddle, he wears a crown and flies.
Don’t ever tell me something’s not possible.
I spied these little impish critters on the edge of a building on the Penn University campus in Philadelphia. I fell in love with their mischievous faces and wondered what book it was they found so fascinating.
“Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” – Anton Chekov