Morning Poem

My fellow blogger Quaint walks out in the early AM and sees fog on the meadow and deer at the wood’s edge.

Here in the city, my bedroom window faces east, and if I’m not asleep, like I wasn’t this morning, I see the layers of blue and gold sky that come first and soon my room fills with sunlight.

Then the little patch of East River I see starts to dance its own greeting to the day … and all that lyrical stuff. This AM, this poem came to me: [If anyone knows how I can space the lines differently, please let me know.]

It’s tempting

to say:

I saw the sun rise

this morning 

when what happened

was the patch 

of Earth that’s mine

rotated counter-

clockwise

out of darkness 

and once again

I didn’t fall off.

Good morning to you, wherever your patch is!