Morning Walk

I walk out

into the fresh-bathed Morning

dream steamy and utterly silent.

Not even the birds dare break

the fragile film of peace.

I stand suspended

within a gray-green sphere

enfolded and caressed

by an atmosphere

neither fog nor haze nor mist,

but a ghostly gauze

that binds me

lifts me

swirls me

through a blurring rush

of green

so clean

so brilliant it would blind

if suddenly

the Sun unleashed the power

within each blade and leaf.

But even the Sun

keeps respectful distance

from my private walk

with Morning.

There are no intruders,

no audience to our barefoot dance,

no curious eyes to see

Morning kiss me

as I slip back

through the kitchen door.

Reviews

[kentuck14]

It is interesting that you capitalized Morning and Sun as if you were showing great respect for them. I like the gray-green sphere, seemingly a private place, almost mystical. Started the poem with walking out, ending with slipping back thru the kitchen door. Appears like bookends. Nice work Catherine.
Tom

[jacob erin-cilberto]

a beautiful affair with morning...hush everyone, and everything, do not disturb.
felt this one...

and yes, welcome to WC...

[Chris]

...and coffee in hand I sat on my steps silently watching a morning's mirage half-a-world away...

Hi, welcome to WC.

[S.Fischer]

This is beautiful, there is something really dreamlike in your imagery and descriptions which works brilliantly with the subject matter.
I particularly like "dream steamy and utterly silent" and the last 3 lines end this piece perfectly.

[Kelly Scheppers]

I felt engaged, as though I were walking through the lucidity of morning with you. Your descriptions are wonder-like in their delivery..."the fragile film of peace" and "no audience to our barefoot dance". This has an ethereal feel to it for me, a contentment to be in the here and now. Such wonderful writing, Catherine!