How many dawns have I seen?
There was one in Tennessee over a bridge and a lake, seen
from a canoe.
Another from a fishing pier in the Yucatan:
so many dawns with water, and scattered sunshine.
Some with dolphins.
One spring, Don and I spent a night behind the union hall
talking about the world and our hearts
(mine wayward, his congenitally large)
and Oceans we might see.
The sun rose that morning with no thunder.
I didn't kiss him and there was no movement of earth or
sky,
only clouds of exhaust from a nearby highway.
And when he died not long after (oh yes—death and the
sunrise)
that morning became the essence of all mornings in this
world.
Mornings we sleep through.
Missed moments.
People we ignore on the street.
Poems we forget to write.
So when I stop my car on a busy interstate to watch an
eastern light,
You may shake your fists or honk as you will.
I am learning to pay attention to this very dawn.
I've been thinking a lot lately about who stays and who must go (for the same reasons why we all stop and think about it, I guess). I have seen many go and wondered why I've been granted time that they didn't have, to try and figure it out. I haven't yet. And, there's a good chance I never will. But, I am learning to pay attention (somewhat late in life) to this very dawn.
ReplyDeletedawn is my favorite time rhonda
ReplyDeleteas the night slips away
revealing everything slowly
it is the time of quiet for me
my meditation time
beginnings and endings the most
beautiful and yes i loved your poem
your poetry and miss you dearly. crow
This knocked me out!
ReplyDeleteWhen I came to, I opened my eyes,
looked straight up,
and saw, as if thru layers of ocean-born tears,
luminous dawn.
...got some chills at the end...poignant message, quite good.
ReplyDelete