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how to treat the day
by Charlie Morganthe day laid its cold hand on my face;
while the sun wriggled to warm me, he
was struggling to get over the Alps.
and begins baking the Sahara, Cape Horn;
mainland America awaits in cool dew.
already the Earth's engine is idling.
morning's hoop-skirt of darkness was full-out;
brown, green, blue below; clear-ether above.
such a cavern of beauty in the form of an orb;
such is mine; such is Everyman's.
postmarked: FRAGILE, Handle with Care.
the life you save may be your own. 03/06/2011 Posted on 03/06/2011
Copyright © 2026 Charlie Morgan
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 03/06/11 at 11:00 PM THIS is such a beautiful poetical warning unlike no other. I quite enjoyed reading all the beautiful imagery...I love yur adjectives that marks yur style, the Charlie Morgan style. Thanks! |
| Posted by Glenn Currier on 03/08/11 at 06:44 PM Oh gees. The imagery is so striking and prone to wake me up. That hoop skirt, the cavern of beauty - take me to the orbiting astronaut with camera in hand blinking with dismay at that glorious fragile orb. Thank you, Charlie, for a beautiful poem. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/11/11 at 04:24 AM I love thinking about where the sun might be at any one moment, traipsing about the Alps while I yawn and dawdle. The hoop-skirt of darkness is brilliant, and the postmark should be indelible. Thank you, Charlie. |
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