Morning Song


Plum Village in the summer

by Zarah Reinhard from Switzerland

this morning

fresh, like a dewdrop

blooming in the mouth of a rose—

standing still,

waiting for awakenings;

dawn has already passed.


this sky

a circled wonder

hidden beyond the stars.

it’s light-blue veil

like the skin of a whale


this blue

iridescently tender sea

opening space after space

into its heart of clouds

dropping peace

like raindrops from its edges.


this sound

chattering birds;

the laughter of the little (miracle)


wrapped in cherry leaves

and sun rays.


This poem was originally posted here

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