Morning commute

“My Beloved is the mountains, and lonely wooded valleys… resounding rivers, the whistling of love-stirring breezes, the tranquil night at the time of rising dawn…” – St. John of the Cross

Blackbirds flock

The soft peach glow

outlines the ridge

as the world wakes

to the sun’s gentle touch

 

Pink, shadowed clouds

viewed through limbs bare

pass as film frames

prey to the morning rush

 

The blackbirds tide

that ebbs and flows

serves to accent

the cerulean crest

 

The world is bathed

in golden hue…

my sole thought – you

as the east becomes west

 

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