Writing with New Light

Through a Basement Window at Dawn

From the tree across the lawn

the woven chaos

of the birds blessing this new piece of day

Shifting the night away.

Softly finger rays feel their way

over the surface of wet ground

warming reflections.

Gray separates into muted colors.

The page becomes words.

Shadows recede into holes and cracks,

or stretch out on the ground,

lazy patches that drowse and shrink

as the light climbs.

Plants begin to breathe in.

Flowers unfold

pressing their backs against the thick glass.

These thoughts came to me on this drizzling, dripping, gray dawn. This afternoon the clouds have broken into white islands in the blue, and three wild bunnies chase each other in and out of the still dripping trees and across the soggy lawn. It is really spring. The children in my class played in the large puddle in the middle of our sad little yard. No one got cold, just soaked from head to toe. Water is good for kids as long as there is no danger of hypothermia. There were a few tears, but a lot more smiles.

This entry was posted in All part of the process, paying attention, poetry, spring, Teaching and Learning, working world and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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