I have been teasing a thought
into being all morning, and
since my morning began at 333 a.m.
it's been a long haul to find
the right words and the right order
to address you. Oh, yes, you have been
a partner in these thoughts since
they first bounced around in my head,
unruly and disordered, hardly the stuff
of poetry. They were as skeletal as
the trees, ghostly branches covered with
snow, the whole scene reduced to two
elemental colors, black and white. Is this
sufficient material for a poem? I endured
an hour of doubt, but in that time I was
rescued as surely as someone lost in a storm.
At first I imagined your face completely
shrouded in darkness, then I gradually saw
its outline appear, and finally your face
was whole, in the pale light of a winter morning.
It was not the sun that blessed us. It was moonlight
and glistening snow that brought us out of darkness
into the welcoming light of their special radiance.
And I send my nighttime thought to you on streams
of bright winter light: There will always be sufficient
light for us to live and prosper in every season.
It was moonlight and glistening snow that brought us out of darkness into the welcoming light of their special radiance.- - - - - Poets always love moonlight that take them out of darkness to the welcoming light of special radiance.
I love this and I am going to give winter another chance, I felt like you my friend, insufficient material for a poem, great work! !
Daniel, you most definitely have a way with words. Another excellent write! Brilliantly shrouded in mystery.
Thanks Richard My poems will never have the sheer energy of the Beat Poets; I read them but don't try to emulate them. But I have cultivated what you rightly call A WAY WITH WORDS, and that is my contribution to this vast enterprise of POETRY.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In the wee hours of the morning, we wake and see the light of their souls. Magnificent poem. And such an outstanding last line!