Morning Canticle

 

Watch night

pull clouds from its eyes,

stretch and turn the sky.

Sun’s lazy opened lid,

slides on sea-swept shore,

moments before stars

fade like dreams.

 

The holiest of times,

fall and climb of waves

insistent, steady roar.

 

God’s hand

has touched the land.

 

Gulls rise and fly above

an open stretch of beach,

wind blown footprints

write a prayer upon the sand.

 

Nothing stays,

wind carries it away.

Peace, another day.

 

 

Lorraine Walker Williams

 

 

About the poem: Poetry is like prayer. When I approach the beach at first light, there is reverence for the beauty that awes me combined with nature that seems untouched. These few ephemeral moments bring peace.