Morning
The mountains’ echoes sound of a new day. The sun has not
yet crests the mountains top, but the saws and hammers, birds, and dogs greet
the rising sun. The smell of coffee and bacon on the cook compete with the
blooms of roses and lilacs. A ghostly
whisper from the melting snow atop the mountain kisses the morning air.
Does it remember it was here not long ago? Amongst this chaotic
clamor of sounds and smells things are missing. Are they like the snow to
return someday?
Not to be heard in this call to arms, the bugle of a steam
whistle of an out bound freight train.
The smell of bread baking from the Wonder bread bakery, I
cry; no more red, yellow, and blue balloons.
What else is missing from this breaking day? No toast with
my bacon and eggs, but I will hoist a toast to this day and wonder why they
went away.
Thank you for stopping by and god bless
4 comments:
im hungry now.
Such a descriptive account of the morning. So true... each time the sun rises.. there is something that won't see the light of the day.
I'm kind of hungry too now :)
Great description of the morning!
The new emerges every day...the old just gives way. Nice descriptive morning.
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