Morning Muse

Mornings hold a magic all their own.  You can see an entirely different side of the world as the sun slowly illuminates a quiet landscape.  Even your thoughts sound different.  Regardless of whether you’ve been up the whole night through, or are still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, there’s something about a sunrise, even one behind clouds, which commands attention.

Changes in light, sound, temperature, and activity provide a unique experience as part of the world wakes up, putting the rest of the world to bed.  Over the last few mornings, I’ve seen the early foxes and deer making their way across the pasture, listened to early downpours and barking neighbor dogs, and chewed a while on the multitude of ridiculously crazy dreams that I’ve been having this week.

Have you ever written or painted something in your dreams?  Seriously – I’ve done both!  In these instances, I’m writing, drawing, etc. and when I finally realize that I’m actually asleep and not awake, I have to jostle myself to consciousness, and then scramble for a place to record my work before it fades with the darkness.

How many of you find your written or artistic inspirations flooding in the early morning?  Do you wake up grasping for pen and a scrap of paper to dribble something down before it slips away?  How do you use mornings for your craft… in contemplation?  In creation?  In preparation for work, school, etc.?  Do you ever get up early to watch the sun rise, or the moon rise/set?

2 Responses to Morning Muse

  1. Kristine says:

    The Swing

    Breaking this fast of pain and grief
    I light my soul upon a leaf, and rest
    Aware that all I breathe is due
    To everything that’s green and new, and test
    this branch, this bough, this arm
    that stretches outward without harm, or hurt
    with beconing leaves that dance,
    with light , with life, with chance a flirt,
    along with birds, and bees I dally,
    my heart brought to its knees, we rally ’round
    With gratitude for sky and ground, and trees.

    I’m back. Just not all together there, yet.
    Missing my grandson terribly bad. The adoptive parents sent pictures with him in his new swing. Sigh. Breathe. Cry. Write. Die a little inside.

  2. JLB says:

    Greetings Kristine, and thank you for sharing your poem. Changes are inevitable, and some of them are tough. Keep creating – it always helps!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: