Thursday, May 21, 2009

A Morning Blessing

I woke this morning earlier than usual, around 4:30 I think it was, an hour before our alarm. I'm not sure if it was the two tufted titmice tossing their loud songs back and forth not far from our window, or the warm scented morning air that woke me. Whatever the cause, I was mostly awake and had a chance to take in the morning slowly.

Two of our bedroom windows face southeast (more or less), and through one window against a milky blue sky I noticed the moon. A pale creamy yellow crescent, not too thin, tipped a bit to one side, it hung there like the waning grin of the Cheshire Cat with no cat body in sight. 

Over the minutes that I was awake, then tried to catch a bit more sleep, then was awake again watching, the moon's cock-eyed smile traveled across one small window pane until it had left my view entirely, lost behind the foliage of an oak tree. 

Though I might have wanted that last hour of sleep, it was a rather lovely way to start the day, soaking up a slightly crooked morning blessing from the moon.


Cori Lynn Berg said...

Good morning, Sukie,

I need to think of this every morning when I wake up. I suffer from a bit of insomnia (can't make it through the night.) Add a my lovely not-so-little tomcat Zack who likes to prowl around and wake me up! My favorite part of the morning is the lovely quiet and then those very first sounds of birds chirping... telling me I'm not alone. Have a blessed day!

Sukie Curtis said...

You too!

aderby said...

this reminds me of a favorite poem:

The Window Frames the Moon

Some nights the moon is the curve of a comb,
tumble of night held casually;
other nights, a plate broken perfectly in half,
box of night coveting the smooth edge.

The window frames the moon, places it
to the left of the world, to the right
decides if it floats, hurtles, suspends,
glances, antagonizes, surrenders.

By eleven the moon is as certain and fixed
as the clock on the dresser,
the chink in the wall,
the black tablecloth with the silver dots of glitter.

Every night is the opportunity to rearrange the world!
With the window, I push the moon into place
as if it were a vase of flowers.
Oh, the glory of the night contained!

But there are nights the moon looms large,
so large it refuses to fit in the frame,
so large it refused to splinter,
and when I push the moon it pushes back

and fills my house, and I am forced to abandon
the clock and the dresser
to stand with the trees, leaves, grass
taking my place among the small things of the world.

-Laureen Mar