A haze clings softly to the distance,
while raindrops tap gently on the window pane.
The birds seem delighted by the morning,
notes rising from leaves washed fresh
from last night’s rain.
Soon enough, the heat will settle,
as the sunlight lifts.
But not yet.
For now,
this cool morning air
awakens my energy.
Linger on the stillness.
Linger on serenity.
If I still myself enough,
will I feel the next poem emerge?
Words that race on by
before they’ve had a chance to be heard.
Let me quiet my mind.
Give the poem time to be caught.
It’s out here this morning.
I can sense it
just beyond the birdsong,
just beyond the rain-washed leaves.
Words playing in the morning air.
A poem creating itself for me.
Tranquil Resources 