(to The First Rays) Six In The Morn Poem by Winsy Tink

[Take this from an early riser: Never waste the magic of morning.]

Gently as the murmuring stream
Trickles through pebbled valleys in search of ambitious seas -
Seeping through the curtains into my dark chamber
So quietly, patiently
Without a sound –
Hush! – lest I be roused with fright from deep slumber

A lover’s fingers
Light as a feather,
Fond as a mother to her new-born
Every touch brought warmth to my alabaster chamber
Where I lay shivering as a robin caught in the snow

A lone sailor struggling with turbulent tides
Is prone to lose focus in the infinite grey
Then a calling -
the voice so serene, yet so clear -
and I was lost no more
but found.
Timely reminder -
this world is more than illusion but not yet conclusion
A world of the world bursting with colours bright
Such is the work of the almighty hand
Such is wondrous Beauty that words cannot praise

I woke hoping for one short glimpse
But You went as gently as You came
So quietly, patiently
Without a sound -
The magic of dawn now complete
Leaving naught but a trail of memories
And birdsong
welcoming Day