Thursday, May 14, 2009

morning

the moon slinks low
days waxing long
into apple-scent light
catching the dust-dance
surprised, naked light
our hair brushed with flour
tousled, tangled bright sheen
pyjamas still crumpled
sheets warm, the beds
remembering
the slow kiss of sleep

come, come to the kitchen
sun-brushed child
dapple your sleep-skin
with the ethereal crackling
light, orange and gold
where we fold and stir
the sourdough batter
for our pancakes,
fry spitting plump berries

to the garden, for handfuls
of fresh herbs, tangy chives
to cleanse the scum of sleep
from your ragged mouth,
blink crumbs out of corners
rumpled eyelashes, birdsong light
a sweet awakening
as we dig and we churn
the dark earth, fill clay jars
where our pansies hang
their mismatched faces
and strawberries delight
the child, this child

Rachel Westfall
May 14, 2009

15 comments:

Karen said...

What a sensory delight and beautiful story and tribute to morning and your child.

Woman in a Window said...

this is all pure poetry, not construct, just a fanciful face full of words. beauty.

Kyddryn said...

Oh, lush, sugar, lush...

Shade and Sweetwater,
K

Aniquez de los mil luces said...

I love everything that has anything to do with pancakes. :D

This was Yummy!

Rikkij said...

Rach-now that's the way to wake up!
fry spittin plump berries!
Good show!~rick

Gerry Boyd said...

"sun-brushed child" that's a perfect phrase

Catvibe said...

This is so beautiful, I want to be your child experiencing these things with you...So lusciously written that it is making me hungry.

christopher said...

When I Was Seven

I remember that
way of waking into new
worlds alone, sneaking
out to see what's what
before anyone else is
awake, then going
places I am not
supposed to, knowing if I
get back fast I will
not get in trouble,
and the glory I have seen
belongs just to me.

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Oh what a dreamy little poem. The sunlight, herbs, flowers, cooking. It fills the spirit with all things needed to survive!

Poetikat said...

Beautiful. I love that word "slink" for the moon.
Your lovely child with the crusty lashes and the sleep-scum cleaned. One day, I feel certain you will have another artist in your midst. (Perhaps you already do).

Kat

Poetikat said...

It is vital that I make a correction: cleansed, for "cleaned".

Kat

SarahA said...

'sun-brushed child' I am loving this, you and as a whole, beautiful images within.

RachelW said...

Thank you all. Thank you! Christopher, the freedom of childhood! Somehow, my poem predicted (set the stage for?) the feeling of this long weekend now past, and then my words slid away into images. I wish I could hold onto the long weekend just a little bit longer. Like another week or so... ;)

Julie said...

Beautiful. I love all of the images, the delicate voice, and the plays on language.

holly said...

I've read, but I'm just now commenting...this has such wonderful sounds...very tasty...I keep saying "dust dance" in my head...