(no subject)

[nverland]

Why I Love Mornings
by Nancy Boutilier


Ah, the possibility
of the uncut tree
all the blank pages it holds
the unwritten words that
will carve their way
into branches
leaves
roots

The unopened gifts of morning
the untrammeled untraveled
unimagined unseen
unsounded unmet
the ground still wet
or fresh with snow
something lost
or found.

I love the sunrise
for its seductive rays
inching themselves across
life's contours
inviting darkness out of corners
as night recedes
leaving the day smooth and untracked
like tide-soothed sands along the shore

I stand above the city
as the slow light
holds steadfast
a dull glow in the face of fog.
The sun is up
and day begins to settle
subtle and persevering
above the sparkling bay.

Below, the highway stretches
itself tight across the terrain.
The cars making their daily journeys
glisten with the possibility of changing
direction
taking the wrong exit
to the left or right
place.

How does one leave
without leaving behind?
How can I write the words
and let the tree stand?
Where does the dew go dry to
as the sun peels off the ordinariness of it all?
What will this day reveal?
What will the sun let fall?