Dawn trilogy


To be able to greet the dawn
with juice and joy
is a wondrous thing.

At times like these I feel like the Universe
is an excited child
pouncing onto my mattress and shouting,
“It’s Christmas!”

Don’t you know that Christ comes to us
every day?
Then why should any day not be Christmas?



The time has no number.
All the machines in my room
    sit, ticking and marking their intervals
but I heed them not, for
    time has no number.

Time has the rising swell of the dawn,
    that joyful spring tide of light.
Time has grey-blue pastel gradients
    onto which
the morning clouds paint their laughter
    at the sun’s fire
    with the colors of tropical fruit.

Time has me
    hung on her bosom
    her hand strokes my temple,
    sings a soothing song.
Time calls me to rest in her comfort
    and to trust her
    as she carries me.



Can you transpose the vibrations of light
    to something more suited to my human ears?
I am convinced that the dawn is a symphony,
    sun, sky, and clouds all playing
    in heaven’s great chamber
    and earth the audience.

A golden crescendo is building
    just over and through those green leaves.
The clouds hold a pure white fermata
    as the mountains hold their breath

waiting to rise in applause as
    the sun strikes them,
casting the funkels of green brown pinked
    sunlight back at the sky.
The flatirons give a standing ovation
    on every clear day

but today great grey mutes
    prevent such raucous clapping.
It must be an adagio
    and I could tell, but no one has transposed
the light for me
    into strains my heart could follow.


I wrote all three poems on the morning of 28 August 2011, as I curled up in the basket chair on my porch and watched the dawn.


One thought on “Dawn trilogy

  1. […] began this as a revision of “Time has no number”, one of my dawn poems. It grew into a re-imagining and into its own work. I’m still not sure if it’s settled; […]

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