(The second in a series of poetic songs...)
Let’s Begin Our Singing
Let’s begin our singing
with a morning song.
Lying beneath the covers
as the sun’s first whispers
peek through the curtains,
as the sun’s light
leads us out of dreams,
out of dreams
and home to waking
let’s begin our singing
with a morning song.
My old thin skin,
my clacking bones,
my stiffened joints
welcome his fiery comfort,
welcome his fiery comfort now,
with a morning song.
Just like the little naked squalling self
shaking his mysterious limbs
with amazement at awakenings
welcomed his fiery comfort,
welcomed his fiery comfort then
with a morning song.
Just like the hot blooded
welter of desire
whose hands and bone
caressed and rode
her passionate yes
to a fiery welcome,
a fiery welcome
yes yes yes,
with a morning song.
Let’s begin our singing
with a morning song.
Stand at the window,
stand in the garden,
stand in the street,
stand on the beach,
stand in the office,
stand on the stage,
stand on the bed,
or chair,
or table,
or ladder,
or ceiling,
arms wide and face high
at sun’s shout and striving,
with a morning song.
With children beside us,
then tiny and rambunctious,
now big and towering above us
let’s welcome old sol,
his light,
his dawn,
his surge,
his sprawling orange gown,
let’s welcome his fiery comfort,
his fiery comfort now,
with a morning song,
let’s welcome his fiery comfort now
with a morning song.
