Holy Daybreak

or “Aaron’s Beard Redux: Psalm 133.5

The sun seeps contently across a thousand “heads,”
Spits of earth bathed gently by precious light that spreads
From the ocean inland down on cornfields, swamps, woods
And then, as on command, dawns to wake neighborhoods.

Above false light-rings snuffed by rising of the day,
Soft pink cloud-beards, puffed, shine back above the gray
About mountain collars transformed by the first rays
That hit peaks and hollers to Appalachian blaze.

Here beyond hills glowing, I watch the red-orange ooze
Spill down, slipping, slowing, toward misty valley blues,
Now casting blades of grass bowed with drops of dew
As countless beads of glass making the scene brand new.

Tomorrow they’ll reset and pull it off again,
Cycling without regret nature’s unfeigned amen.
Each day cries out wonder, sprouting what joy we’ve squirreled.
Blessing rends asunder the darkness of the world.

One thought on “Holy Daybreak

  1. Pingback: The Gift of Mushrooms | Hardscrabble

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