Morning

MORNING

By Shannon Brooks

The morning glories praise the light, 

leaking through crevices,

where stretching limbs thumb their leaves, 

quivering in the warmth. 

Whispered purrs breathe through the Pekín’s bill 

between preening its strong white quills. 

His tilted head aims for soaring silhouettes 

searching the early dew-covered fields. 

Droplets yield to gravity, falling 

from the galvanized strands of fencing,

while earth-toned tabbies claw 

through their early yawns, 

finding golden spots to bask in.

This poem was written just after our Pekin duck, Loulou (right), passed away. It was a time of mourning, yet the mornings brought me peace, especially when spending time outside with our other duck, Einstein (left), and watching the barn cats.