Morning song

The stars have told their stories now
and one by one nod off.
The dark begins, slowly,
to get up and open its eyes.
There is a space where the sun will go.
In the forest the birds begin.
Small things move.
It smells like rain, only something else.
Over the plains something like a bird flies
without turning.
Rising early, a mother to be
sings a haunting song.
The notes rise up out of the ground.
All the creatures know it.
We can’t hear it yet.
The earth holds its breath.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

December 22, 2020

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