The painting above was going to be a throw away before I wrote the poem below and had some of those lines in mind to give me a little direction. The paper it’s painted on was previously folded in half, long before I thought of painting anything on it and unfortunately it’s still noticeable (sorry). The lines I wrote came from another morning walk I took many months ago. The scene of flowers and morning chill left a mark and I had to write something.
The Morning Hush
Early I walk
The whispery fog shies away from me.
Moving further in – trying hard to listen,
To belong to the secret lingering within the mist
Owned of meaning.
Into the meadow, I witness its gathered blends
Of flowing bends and awe.
I’ve caught them un-woken and chill,
Late season wild bloom stunned by
The glittery spell dream of night.
Hypnotized with bliss – grace filled as if
They’ve been granted their one and only wish.
The flavored tints of wind hover motionless above
A welcome belief,
A moment’s mystery freely sipped of reason.
The shared presence between innocent souls
Spared of being told what we’ve become.
For now, be the morning hush
Before all is made a fuss by the warmth of risen sun,
Sorely bothered by the living
Still left to be done…
I’m working on another song now. It has a more hopeful sound I guess, but I like that. For once I’m not so gloomy on the subject I’ve written for.