MOVE ME POETRY — A POETRY COMMUNITY LIKE NO OTHER
The Morning Reclines
The morning reclines
in her luscious robes
beneath the boughs
of petalled trees
between the lines
of sand and sea
from her blushing throne
she paints the sky
with her softest shades
then reclining
in her secret groves
she relishes the rivulets
that bleed into the day
a gentle wounding
absent of suffering
erasing the sleepy shadows
preparing the day
for the impending light
she blows a soft kiss
to the departing night
© Ann Bagnall
