Gift of a Morning Heart

Two divergent clouds met, then narrowed into a flattened yet distinctive heart

Nothing but morning sky in the middle,

Converged in the eastern, early morning August sky.

The poised–woman and greyhound–waited, watched

As golden light beams striped the blue above.

A heart on its side, a bit compressed, but open nonetheless

To shifting tints, rising hues, bursting auras.

Then–there–the first arch of glow tipped the inner rim,

Warming to its space.

 

There–then–gently pushed, slowly slid

Then sighed into settling as if to breathe,

 

I made it.

 

 

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1 Comment

  1. Becky Vance says:

    That poem gives me goosebumps! It’s beautiful!

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