Tremulous morning

Moonset, and Orion leans
into horizon’s rim,
the Pleiades glitter, pale
star-island washed in dark blue sea,
and the morning silence trembles
with the cranes’ chaotic calls,
and the air trembles
with their rowing wings.

Such a morning trembles
with its small joys, small deaths,
first sparrowhawks shriek,
silver, rapier-tongued,
and the hind and her fawn slip
among dawn-dusky willows,
to hide among the quiet trees,
from the trembling rapier light.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

11 thoughts on “Tremulous morning”

  1. A really very real poem. Most of this is no longer noticed in the hustle and bustle of the day. The small deaths, and the hustle and bustle that nature also has at the beginning of the day.

    1. They do. Until other people/things start to get up and about, like the new dog up the lane that barks all day. People round here don’t believe in letting dogs into the house.

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