A recent poem.JPG
First Light.JPG

First Light            Print this poem only (without graphics)

 

I am present when the field beyond the windows

is still shrouded in darkness

my dream awakened me early in fear and panic

but here with candle flickering in the red glass

this tranquil space breathes into me

unties the tension.

 

A soft reverie has me back at the lake

casting my line out just as the sky whispers

hello to the guy full of hope for that first tug.

That rocky peninsula becomes a sacred space

as first light awakens the birds

and the air is full of mystery.

Author’s Note: There is something heavenly in the experience of seeing the first light of day. Inevitably there is a dawning within me as I write in my journal and the lines twist around into a poem. As I was writing this piece I remembered my many camping trips in the spring of the year to Lake Whitney State Park south of Dallas and my home. I would rise at 4:30 or 5:00 and stumble around dressing and gathering my fishing equipment for the short drive to the peninsula where I fished for sand bass and the treasured striped bass. When the lake was calm it was so peaceful. I am filled with gratitude for those moments, now only memories, but sweet ones.