The Morning Spreads

The morning spread in a flood tide of light
Driving away the last lingering shadows of the night
The hazy sliver of a moon which from the sky hung askew
Winked at the dewdrops few
And then was gone
Pierced by the glowing darts of dawn
But the dewdrops few sparkled in the verdant lawn.
The blades of grass
Straightened their spines, revived by the kiss of a new dawn.
The birds sang
Amid the cling clang
Of the peals of labor
As a sleepy eyed neighbor greeted his next door neighbor
The early bird pounced at the worm
Onward ploughed the laborer, head high, step firm.
With wind milling arms, the boisterous breeze
Toyed with the locks of the trees.
The quiescent trees, no longer willing to rest
Sloughed and quivered with a new zest.
Merrily they murmured in multiple keys
The lonely orphan under the tree mistook the sloughing for a lullaby
He closed his eyes and bid goodbye
To the world which was waking up to a new light.
Quietly he fled into the shadows of the night.

6 thoughts on “The Morning Spreads

  1. Pete Mullen

    The poem is subtle, discreet. It tells of the awakening of a new day, with lots of it’s facets fascinatingly mentioned as if with new eyes. I enjoyed it very much. Thanks, Santosh.


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