Let’s Begin Our Singing

As the poet Joy Harjoe notes we once wrote songs for every event of the day. 

So I offer this song in that spirit.

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.

My old thin skin,

my clacking bones

and stiffened joints

welcome his fiery comfort,

welcome his fiery comfort now.

Just like the little naked squalling self

shaking his mysterious limbs

with amazement at awakenings

welcomed his fiery comfort,

welcomed his fiery comfort then.

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.

Let’s begin our singing 

with a morning song.

Stand at the window,

in the garden,

in the street,

arms wide and face high

at sun’s shout and striving.

With children beside us,

then tiny and rambunctious,

now big and towering above us

as we welcome old sol,

welcome old sol

and his fiery comfort,

his fiery comfort now.