Poem January 18, 2010 Issue

A selection of poems that confirm there is hope in every new morning, no restricting webs of deceit, no prodigal behavior to fear—just God-felt hymns of praise!

THE REALITY OF MORNING

LOIS CARLSON

There are those ominous cloud-mountains again
threatening at daybreak.
Regardless, sunrise is happening.

The orange and pink and turquoise
aren't troubled at all by those craggy cloud-cliffs
suspended over nothing.

Look!—to the north
and to the south,
the sky is brightening.

Masses of vapor may hide
the origin of the light,
but they can't stop the sun's rays' warming.
Morning keeps moving.
The black turns to a soft gray.

Now I can see the double layers of froth
sitting on the lake,
postponing the sun's appearance,
but they can't stop light reflecting on the water.

The brilliance is coming.
Already the northern cloud-bank is dispersing.

How many tens of thousands of times
the Creator has presented this majesty
and I have ignored it, thinking
the obstacles more numerous than the sun's rays.

Does it matter how soon
the sun peeks over the cloud?

The beauty of today or tomorrow
can't be stopped.

The clouds didn't even spoil yesterday.

Amazing

—LOIS CARLSON

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