Doctor Grandma

Pink ribbons and purple fluff of clouds
against a lighter blue sky,
as the yellow tint of light begins,
streetlight still on,
darkness gone,
the moon no longer visible.

Birds twitter and flit past me
in a swish of rapid movement,
intent on finding seed,
or the overripe grapes I left on the ground,

a background sound of humans,
someone tries to start a lawnmower,
it jumps and stops, complains, “It’s too early, man,”
and I agree. Go have breakfast, Come back later
and begin again.

Distant rumbles of cars on highway,
squirrels jump from ground to tree,
looking for scraps of pine cones
they didn’t finish yesterday,

Trees reaching to the sky,
shelter for birds, perhaps the owls
we hear just before dawn, hooting,
“I am here. I am here again.”

Insect songs before midnight
trill again, before the light,
fade away, into the trees,
into the light of day,

Neighbors venture through the park,
with their companion dogs on leash,
bag in hand, they take their walk
before the heat sets in.

I watch all this, and listen
from my backyard screened-in porch,
in the quiet of morning, I whisper,
“This is my peaceful day.”

cfblack, 9-18-2026

This entry was posted on September 19, 2026 at 7:35 am and is filed under morning, peace, poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.