Early Morning

The cat mews at the window, rubs himself against the glass,
I can feel the chill, its early morning and the sun plays
games behind a cloud that threatens rain and wind.
In the kitchen, I flick the switch on a machine that
promises so much more than it ever gives.
I cannot see out but the world can see in,
I know the verandah will have a sprinkle of leaves,
too few yet to energise a sweep, too many that
it looks careless against the worn furniture and pots
that cannot be revitalised, just put aside to wait
until their glory days once again burst forth.
The kitchen tiles are cool, my feet still warm
I brush sleep and my hair, stretch limbs against
a counter and wonder at ballet barres whilst
wondering how long it shall be before the colour
of summer slips slowly from me.

The machine gurgles, dripping into glass,
I feed the cat, scour the contents of a fridge
that in my parsimony holds little that interest.
I watch light creep, that eerie light of low sun
and pouring my cup, I open doors to the world
and take myself to the far reaches, leaning far
to watch the early morning energies expressed
before a lethargy takes place and work
on an ancient laptop keeps me chained to a desk,
its promise of freedom, never really realised.
The world is still a surprise at this time,
a beginning not an end,
shall I view it with jaundiced eye,
or leap, throw myself into the energies
of swirling leaves and early morning
joggers breath that adds a fog to the air.
It is beautiful, yet I in still somnambulistic state,
refuse to think, I prefer to wallow in shallows,
let consciousness sink in, clear the shadows;
yet, I am never more awake than at this time of dawn,
I stifle a yawn, and dream, kaleidoscopic dreams,
like the one eyed teddy that only opened his eyes
at night, enticing toys to frolic, their alcoholic antics,
just a beat against the windows of falling leaves
amidst a cacophony of wind rattling door frames.







Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 443 times
Written on 2010-10-06 at 20:08

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shells
I feel the laziness of rising and a little loneliness, or maybe just that solitary feeling. I like the way the poem is interspersed with the the ordinariness of the morning.
2010-10-07


NicholasG
The period after dawn and before the rush is energizing but short. When possible it is better to experience it as Exodus instead of Genesis! At least that's nocturnal Nick's take on sunrise ;-)
Nick
2010-10-06