Middle grounds

October 16, 2009
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The moments in the rise of the morning sun,
Seem so slow
Like a ribbon of different colors
Unraveling
So gracefully it descends
The hectic anonymity of the night
To the busy concentration of morning
In between for these few precious seconds
That are over too quick
There is an air of enchantment
Of the universe at work
When nature is the only thing that stirs
The air is crisp and untouched
The sky is a dimly light pallet of blues and pinks
The virginity of a new day
Species at their core
Merely focused breathing, for these few moments
Watching the beauty,
The free show we often fail to catch
Euphoria of the simple beauty
authentic perfection of it all
Puzzle pieces that never fail to fall into place
Until the rising sun is the risen
And the children are stirring
forgotten responsibilities and plans fill up
shortage of time is remembered
Till the middle grounds
Of the next, rising sun.





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