#908 On The Morning Walk

To step outside before the world grows loud,
When air is clean and light is soft and new,
To walk beneath the white of drifting cloud,
And lift the eyes to unencumbered blue —
The neighbour nods, the stranger tips a smile,
Brief graces passed like coins along the street,
And something loosens, mile by easy mile,
The knot that sleep had failed to quite defeat.
The trees stand green and tall in morning light,
Indifferent to our burdens, blessedly so,
They ask for nothing, offer back the sight
Of something rooted, patient, set to grow.
So let the soul be walked back into bloom —
The morning sky, its ever-open room.