The Morning Spell
Birds sing the first song of the day
Quiet solitude
like a hollow mood
sooths
Rays display various shades and hues
Wet dew
Crisp!
Fresh elixir
Bliss
Light mist
sniff
Can u smell it?
A new beginning
The Morning Spell
Birds sing the first song of the day
Quiet solitude
like a hollow mood
sooths
Rays display various shades and hues
Wet dew
Crisp!
Fresh elixir
Bliss
Light mist
sniff
Can u smell it?
A new beginning
cynthiakehl commented on The Morning Spell
06-26-2009
07/18/2009
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.
Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.
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