Morning desire

Spring breath sighs upon my breast
fragrant lilac, dew laced and cool.

There at forest edge the paleness
of moonlight kissed rosy cheeks,

where crept the thunder of life
amongst moulted tree castings.

The finger of day beckons, a passionate
desire, eyes shaded, lips parted,

to summon flesh upon flesh, sweet,
sweet flower of fire burning my soul,

consuming all that will become of me,
rolling in the frothing white surf of love.

 ©2015, Donald Harbour

Blossoms across the sky

Fingers of light stroke the darkness,
Dancing blonde filaments of golden pollen,
Its unrelenting awakening shadow foraging,
Though the room is cloaked against intrusion,
There is no stopping this creeping tendril,
The tree of dawn blossoms across the sky,
It has a mission to transmute night,
The candles on the cake are lite, blazing,
Morning birds sing a happy birthday chirp,
The tireless bed clasps the body to stay,
But, it has lost its amour of somnolence,
Eos has opened her heavenly rosy gates,
Coating the mouth with her sticky glaze,
As a rampaging bull, day paws at the earth.

©2012, Donald Harbour

Greeting a winter morning

The alarm twitters on the night stand,
Window panes are glazed frosty dark,
A winter drizzle fogs the morning,
It is a  rolling mist of chilled foreboding,
With metallic mouths  we greet each other,
Peering from beneath hay stack tousled hair,
Another day reveals itself as a comic,
I listen to the patio wind chimes sing,
They are temple bells calling for meditation,
Although together we harvest the years,
The feeling is that life will never end,
Mornings are the heralds of continued love,
Blurred promises to honor the day,
It expands chrysanthemum tendrils of light,
The window still casts its non-commitment,
So we turn away from its fractal vision,
Inward to the home, to coffee, and each other.

©2011, Donald Harbour

The promise of Gaia

I have always seen morning
as the promise of life.
A contemplative soulful moment
announcing the journey of day.
I find solace in each awakening
each subtle change it brings.
Now the chill air whispers
announcing a march of seasons.
Dew has bejeweled thirsty grass,
birds begin to arouse,
softly chirping a greeting,
a gentle breeze caresses the trees.
The dawn speaks the name of Sol
it is the given  blessing of Gaia.
This magical moment her promise,
binding of all creatures,
the earth, the air, the oceans.
With the light she strides creation,
a soft footfall upon the earth,
we become one with the cosmos,
and, the glorious spirit of existence.

©2011, Donald Harbour

One two three

when there was one
there was peace
a harmony in time
all things were one
one with the universe
one of a kind
only one that matters
one night one day
then there were two
flint and steel two
yin and yang two
plus and minus two
yours and mine two
he and she two
two make three
with three no one
there was no two
night became day
day became night
three mattered
more than one or two
no equality in three
somewhere in the process
of mathematical addition
the numbers confused
night and day became universe
yours-mine he-she us
harmony was commitment
peace was a toy
three a quantum theorem
three a family

© 2010, Donald Harbour

Who will remember

When sunset fades to night
Will you remember it
Can you feel the beginning
Of its day, its journey
Will you reflect on the moments
Of each melody it sang
The tinkling distant bells of wind
The crystal magic of its light
Painting azure skies with white clouds
The green of the grass and trees
Flowers yearning for a bee kiss
Ripples in a brook, ocean surf
Life awakened, vibrant, joyous
These tracks in time never again
Each minute of each day different
Each sunset a unique treasure
Living and dying in its course
If not you, then who will remember
When you can no longer remember
Who will remember your sunset
When sunset fades to night

The day’s possibilities

"Awakening" photographic art by Donald Harbour

"Awakening" photographic art by Donald Harbour

Light is filtering
Over the hills,
Spilling upward
the gesticulation of day.
A fanfare of birds,
the symphonic twitters
of flutes and piccolos,
an adagio movement
leading to the crescendo
of the approaching sun.
There is gentle whispering,
lilac scented breath,
awakening the willow
in sensual yawning.
Life rustles the sheets
of a velvet night’s
star clustered coverlet,
laid reverently ‘neath
an azure blue comforter.
What magic, what glorious,
wondrous magic.
The wand of Mother Nature
touches the soul of living,
claims the spirit to the tide of time
and the endless song of the universe.
Dawn, that one complete moment
when every part of creation
opens its eyes
to the possibilities
of a new day.

Copyright: 2009, Donald Harbour