to grayness
rain slapping windows
winter wind crying
because it does not heed
and life.
Wrapped in my blanket
I listen
to that unrelenting wind
not caring
around the edges
of existence.


Through the
gusting gloom
wailing doom
a faint sound.
A solitary
little bird
joy joy joy-joy-joy
the light
how dim.

Bird singing in the rain. Andy Morffew. CC BY

6 thoughts on “Morningsong

  1. There’s so much I enjoy about this. I love that the wind is making a repeat appearance in your work. Sounds like it has something to say.

    And the still, small voice of the bird breaking through the desolation is a symbol of everything that we need right now.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I have never heard the wind moan so long and hard as it has here this spring – even on bright, clear days, it is lurking around the house like an invisible Being, seeking a way in or daring me to go out and be consumed. It is a real character in the unfolding tragedy of these days; it sounds as if it knows.

      That bird. The dawn was so gray. I thought, where are the others? And then I thought … I need to BE that bird.

      So grateful that you enjoyed. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I have also heard the sounds of the wind and rain in the gray darkness lately. Even when the sounds are faint, I know they are there. Do they know that we listen and reflect on their presence-
    around the edges
    of existence.”

    Liked by 1 person

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