The morning is
As peaceful as
A cemetery everyone
Is staying home
Including those under
Earth even the
Ghouls have lost
Their voices instead
Flying about silently
The morning is
As peaceful as
A cemetery everyone
Is staying home
Including those under
Earth even the
Ghouls have lost
Their voices instead
Flying about silently
The sky this
Morn is a
Sleepy white pale
Blue with rose
Quartz at horizon
Plane sounds like
Hot griddles hitting
Cold water even
The trees lack
Pop as though
They were painted
Saul back East
Hasn’t opened his
Eyes yet causing
All this drowsiness
The air this
Morning smells like
The crisp piney
Cedar aroma of
My family’s cabin
In northern Wisconsin
The small one
Room cottage was
Surrounded by tall
Pines and cedars
Which shed needles
And bark perfect
For a crackling and
Aromatic camp fire
The inside of the
Cabin held a
Musty smell until
My mother and
Grandmother swept and
Mopped the locked
Up smell behind
I came out
To watch sunrise
It’s less of
A snapping shade
Or photographers flash
And more like
The tide slowly
Rolling subtly ashore
It’s one of
Those things that
If you weren’t
Looking for it
You’d miss it
Like a shooting
Star or firefly
And from hundreds
Of miles away
Your voice crackles
And echoes in
My ear a
Bad connection almost
Sinks our precious
Time until the
Real words come
Through clearly finally
I love you