Oh, to lasso the slowly rising sun
suspended and ripe upon morn's horizon,
almost bursting before it slips slowly upward
out of reach; keep it hovering there,
surrounded by ribbons of tangerine, ochre & mint.
I raise my arm, hand and fingers
delicately, reverently reaching,
knowing to touch is impossible and yet,
the yearning is there. I'm jealous
of seagulls whose wings are embedded
in this saturated tapestry...
this temporary oasis before stretch of day.
by Margaret Bednar, September 25, 2020
This is linked with "Poets and Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #38 - A Helping String"
It has been over a month since I have written a poem! I have been busy with schooling my son at home on-line through his school because of this pandemic. He goes back twice a week to school starting next week and I will have a bit of time to myself again! I have missed all my poet friends.