First Light...

Just a description of a lonely winter morning taking shape...

This is the first morning of the rest of my life,
And I’m sure wishing you were here…

Standing in the kitchen in the early morning darkness,
I look through the dew-wet window over the sink,
And take my first look at the day before me.
The moon is resting on the western horizon,
Waiting for the first signs of the sun,
So she can lay down and rest for a bit.
She’s gotta work again tonight you know.
And these winter nights are long and cold.
She lights the land with a light so pale,
That there really are no colors.
Only shades of grays and blacks.

This is the first morning of the rest of my life,
And I’m sure wishing you were here…

I smell the breathe of coffee now, and pour myself a cup.
A scalding sip, like a blistering kiss, makes my eyes fly open.
I cross the room and take a seat, opposite the window,
Pulling a blanket around me now, I listen to the silence.
The faint tick of the clock, a rooster in the distance,
The rhythmic sound of a cat’s breath,
As it sleeps on the back of the couch behind me.
The reflection of fire from my cigarette,
Glows back at me from my image in the window.
A ghostly image of loneliness,
In shades of grays and blacks.

This is the first morning of the rest of my life,
And I’m sure wishing you were here…

The morning light is slipping in, as images get clearer.
Fence posts, once invisible, begin to appear one by one,
As they reach for the road in the distance.
The sleeping humps of resting beef, slowly find their feet,
As little mouths fill themselves beneath their mother’s bellies.
The blanket of frost across their backs looks gray,
From its mirror on the sleeping pond.
Fields, farms and hills slowly come into view,
As the sun paints the countryside with her brush of new colors.
A palette of pale greens, browns and whites,
Pushes out shades of grays and blacks.

Finally it is done, the moon has been relieved and gone to bed.
The sun takes her post and begins her watch.
Under her warm gaze, I do what must be done.
I shake the blanket from my shoulders and rise.
This is the first morning of the rest of my life,
And I’m sure wishing you were here…

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I like this one as well, but not as much as your other entry. It's still good writing and solid prose or freestyle verse. Of course your work is always quite exceptional. But one thing about leaving reviews for you, I know I don't have to tip toe round worried about your fragile ego. lol Of course, there's nothing here not to like though! :o)

[Emily B]

I think I shivered a little reading this, wishing for someone to come and wrap the blanket around my shoulders, a little

it's wonderful work, good luck in the contest