Morning Life Again

Worry escapes me.

Singing releases me on this day.

Another visible mountain from mother scaled, another way

To see the Sunrise, nothing escapes me–I can see

Farther above our trees, a wind cut aspen. How sad to remember

Death of river birch and ash. Today I witness volunteer aspen roots

She planted into the tree to remember living things, green life she loves,

Life replaced a dead tree farther back on Mary Lane.

Our birch and ash cut in half by the wind. She could destroy weeds,

A great woman she has removed them in her sleep resurrected

Joy reverence. Another mind knowing no sorrow of humankind.

I am not alone as I can see my essence in her hands she reaches up

Like a tree in the sky. She walked away from River Styx,

Away from Empire, away from fall of earth. We never

Escaped death until now–we always dwelt in the dust of thoughts,

Of our own gloom. I’m not royalty but born of the sea water.

Elixir of life-slaking mist. Mountains rising up, Rocks of snow,

The industry of kill has gone bleak–Now we live in notes

Of living music, living water. Lillys she’s tended with baptistry,

Selflessness, a memorial in our flesh, all found again the wisdom

Into essence, morning essentially visionary as on Canterbury

Morning seeing the day as pilgrims walked east beneath gates

Of Hell, renewed our spirits with New Water, the elixir of Life.

We revived life as on Easter Morn–of sisters and brothers, always

Witnessing newness, now we love each other, as never

Before. Reverance has descended. I’ve always called Him

Douglas fir. Now myself–I am so strong, so healthy never cut

Into another tree or any like Him, no wind again. Now I know

This finally is the truth about my Brothers and Sisters who I love,

I maintain He’ll love me too, revolving like the day

Into the morning risen as the freedom to redeem flowers

She tends from Christmas to Christmas, now knowing, we care

For the first time in our lives. Gone is the hate of childhood,

Reaching into day again yellow-red, ruby morning globe

Of energy, the sky of marriage, love removing death,

Fulfillment of our kind. Great Melting away everlasting gloom.

How do I say this is the day? The day has begun.

More joy I’ve never felt, this is the sun.

Published by elgwyn

I was a University and community college instructor. I am an ordinary man writing for artistic reasons, and simple taste-- blogs are an answer to high priced self-publishing. Walt Whitman had to print his 1000 paper books himself because in 1855 poetry did not sell. It does not sell now unless you have a Pulitzer Prize, and even then, the poet usually makes a living in other ways than poetry. In all ages there have been writers writing out of their own reasons. I am an older man with fewer computer skills than my daughter. Blogs let me reach an audience missed by books, and I stand a better chance to reach a wider audience. My two self-published books, Winter from Spring, and Meditations on Gratitude, Charles E Taylor, MFA, and a third coming out sometime next year, through The Book Patch: For Patty Brown... satisfy needs to hold books, and, yet, still read as electronic books which are easier to produce than paper books. The blog allowed me to write a compendium of my writing. I can combine composition with production. Wordpress provides word processing with production. When the writer finishes writing they press publish and then a finished piece. I’m happy to present to you a slice of my personal writing. Do enjoy what you read!

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