Ode to Sunday Morning
“When you arise in the morning, think of what a precious privilege it is to be alive — to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.” Marcus Aurelius
The harvest moon hangs a button on the universe,
The silent mist lingers fleecing early essence of peaceful
Permutations while cows graze for later mastication;
Lassitude of nature hooted by an owl returned from the hunt;
Leaves of trees burnished shivering before frost’s revenge;
Quiet sensory reality fulfilling intelligence of being whole.
I close my eyes filled with images of yesterday’s dissolutions…
Profane ignomy goading a mocking crowd on violence,
An island burning its heritage to the foaming sea,
A country’s pride and youth destroyed by evil warmongers,
Respite bombing of children in hospitals with no escape,
And technocrats in the background hard wiring brainpower
To regenerate artificial history to resequence right or wrong.
Please open your eyes, normalize peace on the winds of love.
Annemarie Berukoff
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