Love letter to the morning

Love Letter to the Morning

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There is much they don’t know. Our history,
the ways we cleaved together and then peeled apart.
How you went on without me, blithely,
and I mourned you even when I didn’t name it.

It. The mourning morning, the real morning that
happens between 5 and 6am. I deprived myself
of your inspiration even when awake, then,
gave myself over to the brooming and grooming of my paperworked life.

Like a wife; I’d
married it, you see. The computer, the bills,
endless spin of record-keeping for this one and
that one and those ones.
A rushing stream of ones
and zeros. Ones and zeros the sum total of dead hours
with a glowing box that sucks the senses in and into it,
out and out of me. But you, but we

Prevailed! How could I stay away too long?
You are bejeweled, bedecked with sparkling dew,
your siren song a chorus of birds and bugs seasonal,
their auditions the sweetest breakfast in my ears. Your
fragrance is a heady perfume of mystery and promise.

This heart leaps and sings
each and every time you appear,
like you’re coming just for me,
with an invitation for the daily
private showing, darkness disrobing
to reveal pre-dawn and dawn,
the sky a many-hued tapestry,
cool breeze a healing balm, and
aviary symphony,
delight for waking ears.

–Melinda Coppola

2 thoughts on “Love letter to the morning

  1. Well Melinda, Now that I have stopped crying I can write this comment. I haven’t been keeping up with Facebook much these days…too busy; haven’t been writing at all these years…too busy; but then home sick today found your post which led me here. Many poems read…I remember so many years ago at Goddard being awed by your poetry. And now, when I need to hear this most of all since I am…so very busy–I feel lifted and inspired and will write some poetry tonight. Thank you for the inspiration!! Truly amazing poetry!! Especially love this one. Love sent.

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