Sunrise, 30 December 2020 – by Bonnie McClellan

Sunrise, 30 December 2020
 
Now is the hour of the small birds
storming into the cypress tops,
which do not bend as they do
under the weight of magpies and ravens.
 
A murmuration of morning steam rises off the cement factory.
Disguised as fast-moving clouds, they power up the valley;
an insubstantial mother tugging at the hand of her sleepy 
puff of a child,
running off into nothing.
 
Now the sun snaps across the mountains
an incandescent ribbon of rose-lipped pink.
Clouds, scattered across the measureless pale-blue tile of sky, explode
into tulip petals, pink swans, holy doves
                                            alight.
 

By bonniemcclellan

Mother, poet, american ex-pat from Texas living in Northern Italy.

1 comment

  1. Gosh, that’s lovely, Bonnie! The cloud/steam imagery – a “sleepy puff of a child” and her “insubstantial mother” – it’s all so beautiful! Bravo!

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