This Poem is the Breath of Dawn

Morning Beach

This poem is the breath of dawn  on a windswept
morning at the edge of the sea.

This poem is a murrelet on the wing.

This poem is a gray whale, spy-hopping.

This poem is misty with early morning fog.

It drapes shawls over the shoulders of
Grandmother Cedar so she wont be chilled.

This poem loves the morning.
It looks to the sky to see all the colours of the day.
This poem is the breath of dawn on a windswept
morning at the edge of the sea.

This poem is a tiny bird who makes her nest

deep in the forest.

This poem must fly great distances,
out to sea and back again,
in order to find sustenance.

This poem sometimes grows tired,

and in need of rest.

Its perch is precarious,

its nesting sites vanishing

along with the old growth.

This poem is sometimes in need of rescue

and protection.

This poem is a murrelet on the wing.

This poem swooshes up in placid waters,

takes a look around and finds that life is good.

Then this poem does a series of dives and breaches,

just for the sheer joy of it.

This poem is an ancient voice

which sometimes speaks

with an old soul.

This poem is a gray whale, spy-hopping.

This poem is the breath of dawn, on a windswept
morning at the edge of the sea.

This poem is a murrelet on the wing, heading for home.

This poem is a gray whale, spy-hopping
for the sheer love of living.

This is my attempt at Hannah Gosselin's newly-created  Boomerang Metaphor Poem, which you can read about here. This exciting new form leaves the door wide open to what can be created. I love it!