Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Tuesday Poem: Morning

Don’t deceive me precious morning
no, my love, do not –
your skin’s so fresh and born in air,
deceptions leave their marks
on there: like the tick
of cloud on the blue of sky
above the startled hills.

I need you to be true,
my love,
when I breach sleep and walk barefoot
yawning to the morning room,
day tugging on my sleeve already
asking for a piece of this or that.

I need your held breath,
your pale stare,
your cool complacent unmarked cheek 
and the way you sit, transparently
waiting for me.

                                                            Mary McCallum


For more Tuesday Poems go here - at the hub you'll find a NZ classic rediscovered. 

8 comments:

Claire Beynon said...

))O((

x

Bookman Beattie said...

What a beautiful poem.

Vespersparrow said...

Oh, Mary, this is an astonishment of beauty, so delicate, so quietly fierce--and imagine being so intimate with morning. Just gorgeous. Thank you.

Catherine said...

Lovely to see a poem that is so unashamedly tender.

Elizabeth Welsh said...

The soft pleading - the repetition of the word 'need' is so delicate but so demanding. Gorgeous poetry, Mary! As always!

AJ Ponder said...

It's a lovely morning image so fresh - that wonderful time out in the country has perhaps renewed your soul for poetry? Gorgeous.

Pam Morrison said...

Lovely!!

maggie@at-the-bay.com said...

Just come to this - already three 'gorgeous' one 'beautiful' and a 'lovely' and all I can say, is where do they all spring from - such a bounty of beauty. Oh, and 'tender'.