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Morning
by
Erle Kelly


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The rising sun’s fiery-orange rays
splash like embers on the branches
of the magnolia and ficus
signaling the waking hours
of squawking parrots and crows,
lawnmowers, hum of the motorized world.
Gone the wolf-hour sounds of fog horns,
breaking surf, barking seals,
you breathing lightly on my shoulder.

© by Erle Kelly.
Used with the author’s permission.

 

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Erle Kelly lives in Long Beach, California, where he tutors at a local elementary school and attends a weekly poetry workshop. Retired from a career in marketing management, Erle and his wife enjoy traveling and exploring the world, and also enjoy discovering the wonder of their local environment.

 


New comments are closed for now.
barbara eknoian:
Great description for a short poem. I love the ending.
Posted 07/29/2015 07:35 PM
Mary Lou Taylor:
Takes me back to living near Manhattan Beach and later Santa Monica. The sounds so vivid, so right.
Posted 07/29/2015 01:44 PM
Jancan:
I really like this poem--lovely, especially the simile. Janice Canerdy
Posted 07/29/2015 12:17 PM
fuddygail:
the last line really got me...bravo..
Posted 07/29/2015 11:13 AM
paradea:
Good one!!
Posted 07/29/2015 09:27 AM
peninsulapoet:
Spare and lovely.
Posted 07/29/2015 08:04 AM
Katrina:
I love all the sounds in the two penultimate lines (7 & 8).
Posted 07/29/2015 02:59 AM
rhonasheridan:
I loved the splashing embers. But the wolf hour sounds were almost better. A super little poem.
Posted 07/29/2015 02:54 AM


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