From what was a hushed night

We have now, morning

The silence remnants,

Still enveloping creek and corner

Soon it will have competition

When with sunrise, comes the bustle

And with the bustle, comes the hustle

The hustle, bringing forth a new chapter

The living are readying

To attack the day

Such zeal, such motivation

Pot scoops of such, invaluable

A brand new day

For the lonesome, the nurturers

For the caretakers, the peacemakers

Even more brilliant of a day, for a dreamer

The Naked Ritual 

The naked ritual,

I undid my hems

And that’s what I did to my close minded outlook 

I soaked my feet in brine

And that’s what I did to soothe my aching worries 

I inhaled, I exhaled, morning and night

And that’s how I welcomed life and and the unexpected 

And by the time I lay to sleep 

I was aware of myself, naked to the core

My naked self raising the question, 

“What relationship have you, with yourself?”


Dawn breaks, ready to muck out night’s muddle

Soon the birds shall welcome the sunrise


Prayers as calm winds, roam the city

As whispers of supplication, chime in chorus.


Some, after a long night’s booze

Have barely made it to bed for a snooze


While vernal cohorts, engage in tittle-tattle

Their phone backlights, illuminating a global map.


Others with hardened hearts lie vexed

Whiling away time, with thoughts of contempt


Not to forget the creative owls

Pooling in inspiration from the ebony aura


Soon the sun shall rise, to usher in the day

And gone with the night, its thrilling bustle


See every Tom, Dick and Harry wake

In whatever manner they do.

Grumpy or thankful

Refreshed or still jaded.


The blush of dawn knocks at our windows

Pleading that we don’t disturb the morning.