how the morning slips so silent
stormclouds gathering like drowsy swans
bereft of their prestine plumage
from playing with the ashes of midnight
and a chill races through my limbs
as they meld and crash embrace and enfold
long lost lovers in mute adoration
how beautiful
the power of attraction
this is not the perfected shining start
rising from the tips of lyric etched pens
there is no blazing warmth of heaven
cresting bright and priceless
over sleeping trees and fields
to touch all it meets
with golden gloved fingers
in a triumphant stunning display
no this is not
a fairytale painted day
this is a beginning
birthed in quiet gasps
cool kissed lips breathing electric frost
moving with silken wings almost too tender
paper cranes softly fading in windows
gathering not dust but infusing moonbeams
it is a thousand hooves racing gentle
manes streaming in a rumbling affirmations
how the heart sighs
at such inviting misplaced wonders
eyes stare with intense aching
oh to be so soft and yet so strong
like the gathering clouds of winter
to flow and grasp with such elegant arms
on a mist filled hour made for rising
yet i sit curled and drawn in wonder
watching time dance in mismatched steps
so scare is winter thunder
and blessed it fills me to be witness by chance
*we've had two thunderstorms that i've known of so far. a rare thing for the middle of winter since they usually herald its end and the start of spring*
© 2006 nikesrain
Copying this work to another webpage without author permission is plagiarism.
Plagiarism is a misdemeanor, usually punishable by fines of $100-$50000 and up to one year in jail.
Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/6117/76632 on Saturday September 06th, 2008 11:48 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
Comments on ..rare skies in my morning coffee..