In The Morning
In mourning I begin to write
Will this be a poem
Or grocery list?
I don't know
I just know the sky demands
I speak. My heart lifts up high.
What is there guides my words
If the thrush lands on the bush
If the wolf crouches
I howl. If the deer pants
I become thursty.
Give....be careful to give
Everything its due.
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Comments about this poem (In The Morning by Bull Hawking )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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