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English Mornings

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I step out and the enveloping mists alert me
The mornings we call upon for such serendipity
are infrequent, insufficient
Yet familiar for their scents –
the dawn vapour that seeps into my scarf
And the very pores of my skin
Induces memories, unique to myself and those before,
yet we are united by its ability to taint the fresh canvas of a new day
with everyone’s individual memories of such indefinable senses,
like the blank scrabble tile or the dark matter
that fills-in and accounts for all the unanswerable articles in our lives.

We are all bequeathed this fascinating consciousness
and comforting sense of insignificance, yet we do not fully accept these gifts,
For the dawn of each day is the soundest of certainties to us,
So much so that we fear the time when we will not live to see another.
Yet to me, each day is in itself a life –
To me the here and now is always the most precious time.
It is affected by everything that ever was,
It has made me who I am,
It is what binds us all to the earth and gives us constant purpose –
This precious, beautifully finite here and now we call life.

This morning, here, right now
Is unique, though akin to so many before it -
As with all forms of familiarity a new, more detailed feature
Is picked up every time, making every familiar experience
Quite unique, quite fascinating, quite subtly yet undeniably, beautiful.





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maggiebar1 said...
Aug. 8, 2010 at 9:48 am
You have an amazing gift for being able to see detail and then being able to put it down into words. Not an easy thing to do, yet you're so good at it.
 
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