Hello readers!  I’m back from a brief absence, and with this post i’m returning to an early passion for poetry. I hope something in the following piece speaks to you.

***

Morning Dark

In the still of earliest morning

Dark still rules yet pledges light

I’m thinking of how things fall apart.

And how mirth collides with mourning

With dawn afar, dark heralds night

Color in shadows requires art

And rarely, with less forewarning,

Things come together, they turn upright

This i stumbled on by heart

The art we make at night must be with inner light composed

So with a heart that’s scarred and yet more open than supposed

I find most often now I write with both of my eyes closed