Morning rinses the sky—
yesterday’s dust loosens,
falls from the leaves.
Light steps barefoot
across the floor of the world,
quiet, intentional.
I drink the air,
cool and unburdened,
and even my name
feels newly pronounced.
Somewhere,
the clock forgets to hurry.
Somewhere else,
I begin again.
Thank-you for reading.
Remember there are many paths back to God.
Follow your own path,
Brenda Marie
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Brenda, this is breathtaking. Your poem captures that rare, suspended moment of dawn with such delicate precision—the dust falling from leaves, the feeling of walking barefoot on the world’s floor. The line “even my name feels newly pronounced” stopped me entirely; what a profound way to express renewal. And the closing thought is a gentle, powerful reminder, like a quiet bell ringing after the poem ends. Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece of your morning, and your spirit. It is a gift.
Thank you—your words mean more than I can easily say. I’m deeply moved by how attentively you read the poem and how beautifully you articulated its heart. That sense of renewal, of meeting the world (and oneself) anew in the quiet of morning, is exactly what I hoped to convey. Knowing that the line about my name and the closing moment resonated with you makes the sharing feel complete. I’m grateful you received it with such openness and care. 🌅✨
Thank you so much Brenda for your kind reply 🌷 you are always most welcome 🤝
Very nice thoughtful poetry, Brenda. 😊
Thank you so much Tim.
You’re welcome, Brenda. 😊