Having just returned from visiting some of my late husband's family living in the Ozarks, I decided to try to poetically describe the gift of morning I always feel so priviledged to receive when I visit.
Mountain Morning
mountain sun rises slowly over patchwork horizons, bathing silver hills in gauzy splendor and nature, singing
melodies of waking and breathing scents of honeysuckle and wild rose, captures morning innocence... rock and sand,
green brush and towering pine paint vivid landscapes and mandolin breezes drift into remembrance of yesterday when
loved ones stood beside me, their gentle whispers now heard in the misted hills, their spirits lingering like mellow moonshine
upon parched lips... contentment sighs, its breath dusting skies with azure, its arms embracing me and another mountain morning
oh my...this is beautiful...outstanding imagery done with such soft strokes...you have outdone yourself in this piece my friend.
Reviewed by Butch Howard (Reader)
Reviewed on July 31, 2007
I love the feel of this nature loving piece. The connection to loved ones on those "misted hills" and memories of "lingering spirits" show us the visual and convey the spiritual effectively. Well done, Myrna!
~Butch Howard
A stunning write my friend, wonderful imagery that paints a beautiful picture within the mind of the reader! Enjoyed this beautiful poem and picture as well, a powerful combination. You've penned it well my friend!
Blessings,
Joyce B.
This is a beautiful work about a gorgeous part of our country! As a city guy, now living in the green elevations of northern Georgia, I concur with each word and phrase of this take on an Ozark morning. Your pen helps it considerably, and the two take first prize with me. Glad you're home - safe and broke... probably. - Bill
Yes I know the feelings you describe so eloquently here, I have a camp up in the hills here in Nova Scotia and I always have a sense of coming home when I am there. Great poetic painting.
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Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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~Butch Howard
Blessings,
Joyce B.
Be safe,
Karen
Fee