Poetry – Dawn


Dawn mounted her golden throne

And called the souls of velvet petalled flowers

To shriek their envy

At the clouds

Bedecked in salmon gowns of lace

With purple trim

She spread her hands

And peaked between her orange fingers

To reach with glistening shards

To trace the outlines of the hills

And leave their afterglow

Etched in vivid silhouette

And the world stood still to watch

Before exhaling

In celebration

To fill the new day

With its electric buzz

And exuberant trill

Assured and serene she stood

To survey the rebirth of the world

To look down upon the newborn hues

Of revealed majesty;

Another mundane miracle,

And nodded her approval

From within the Heaven’s contented sighs.

Opher 18.6.96

This was a bit of a personification of the world and the heavens with no deity intended.

It was one of those magic mornings that make you stand speechless and stare. The sun was rising above the horizon to paint the clouds in vivid orange, red, purple, pink and yellow. The majesty was sublime.

The Earth was enveloped by the heavens and it radiated warmth.

I never tire of sunrises and sunsets. They are magical, mystical and moving. It’s the perfect birth or death.

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