As if I am on a throne,

My green couch suffices,

In my royal clothes,


(if you must know,

Warm or cotton lightly,)

I look out my doorway,

Sometimes open, sometimes


But always with a quiet buzzing


Even if there is nothing to hear,

Young birds scatter on branches,

Learning to fly,

Mother and Daddy cardinals show off

Their bold and beautiful redness

Against the sky—

Branches might be blowing back

And forth,

The day, before begun, the sky

Is alert with promise,

Sun or rain,

I wait for words to come;

Not dependent on the weather,

Still my delicate mission,

I write my early morning poems

In verse,

Hoping that love is in them,

And that love will find me

In return,

In due course.

table with flowers

Bluebird (Sept.17) adds, “Morning Words (poems) is the first thing I do in the mornings, my meditation, my prayer, my connection to others.  Nature is in front of me through the screen door or open if in fall or spring.  Beauty is always in the rainy days, the sunny days or cloudy.  I think of friends and loved ones and friends on Facebook seem to love my morning thoughts and muses, hopes and dreams.

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