Morning Thoughts

English: morning mist

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is no heat this early,
just light from the sunrise filtering
through the trees,
but it is enough to burn
away the frost,
leaving a silent mist
to blanket the ground.
It is the first morning
of the season where I can
see my breath as I exhale;
visible proof of life
to any witness, wraithlike
reminder to myself.
I turn back to the house
and the waiting coffee,
knowing it will not be enough
to warm me,
and knowing what was important
last night now no
longer matters.

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7 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

7 responses to “Morning Thoughts

  1. Your poetry is always such a joy to read, and this one is no exception. “Turning back to the house and the waiting coffee” is beyond visual – I almost smelled coffee…

  2. Very well put, though I might argue wraithlike as a sore thumb.>KB

  3. Mark…I can smell this write…that first morning when your breath leaves the house before you do…love the silence of this time of day…and the time to release last evenings worries…wonderful writing Poet (there…I did it again!) And awesome to see you đŸ™‚

  4. Mark, the first smell of my morning is coffee. Have to say, this had that ‘rite of passage’ that comes with the seasons, but there was a melancholy tone to me in the last line. Maybe it’s just how I read it, and probably it’s more of an acceptance, knowing your work as I do. A wonderful piece all around, evocative and so THERE. Amy

  5. margaretbednar

    reflective, poignant, wise. Really liked this earthy poem.

  6. Shawna

    Your last seven lines are my favorites. Your endings are always so strong!

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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