The Breaking Day. . .


Not often do we find sunrise photos.  I thank Jon Katz of for this photo which he so graciously lets me use.   Here in California,  morning’s sunrise can be counted on pretty much and often to our detriment as these weeks have shown.  Still, photos like these require a photographer to rise early to greet them and be in the right place.  This is a favorite of mine and says perfectly what I try to say in this Breaking Day.

The Breaking Day. . .

There is a texture to the morning
that I distinguish from
the silky drape of the night,
to the languid folding
of two o’clock in the afternoon.

I greet it with a welcome
and crisp breath that
will increase sharply my taste
of morning coffee.

The smooth touch
of the furry Newfoundland with
his wet nose give off a sparkle
of light in the rising sun.

I taste of the morning with its clarity
that I will miss in the
oncoming heat of the day.

But this breaking day I move
my arthritic fingers with
their numb tips and wonder where
the girl has gone who never gave thought,
not once, to the dawn that
would ever break unevenly
in her world.

Nor did she ever think that the magic
of her mornings would ever change,
and never knew of the Grace
that the Greater Heart would grant
her aging one,

to feel supremely blessed.



2 responses to “The Breaking Day. . .”

  1. What a beautiful capture of morning in the various ways it comes to us and our perceptions of it throughout our life.

  2. Oh Veronica, you got this SO right. I’m wondering if it
    takes a life-seasoned heart to understand this
    fully. Maybe it just takes an old soul.

    Sent from my iPhone

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