Northern Morning

A poem about Darwin – enjoy

Still dark now

People waking, emerging from dreams

slip from ruffled beds, disentangle from sleeping partners.

Garbage trucks begin their guttural rumbling trek through

a snoozing suburb.

Light-creeping night-falling

sun fingering in through dawn-clouds

Streaky bacon sky.

 

Alarm clocks shrill

clock radios spring into life

walkers, runners, riders invade the streets

silently pounding, arms swinging, regular breathing

swimmers plough up and down backyard pools

The day begins.

 

Light floods

the flat blue horizon

Storm clouds roll away across the heavens

leaving the suburb coolly sighing in the moments

before the sun bursts upon them

firing up the day

firing up the week

firing up the temperature

so that by the time people step

from their morning showers

before they can even dry the water from their bodies

sweat is rolling down their skin.

 

The morning smells sweet

clear, crisp, lighter than the night

Light-blue smells

not the

velvet blue-black smells of the night.

Inhale the refreshed gardens

the flowers releasing cleansing perfumes

filling the nostrils of the waking streets.

Later, children strolling

spilling from cars

will breath in this morning air

smile and be revived for the week’s work

All – children, workers, mothers, babies, students, unemployed –

as they find their way in the world today

will be buoyed by the night storm

the fresh smells of their suburb

the bright blue of the sky

and go happily about their business today.

 

But now dreams are scattered with the early morning light

lost, taken with the dispersing clouds

only snatches left,

disturbing tendrils to bother and mystify throughout a day

busy with the needs of work, of other people.

Ah, to sleep the extra five minutes

to save the lost dream

the door to the soul, to dark wishes and desires

the book of ideas and inspirations

the path to the future             (image from Google images)

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6 Responses to “Northern Morning”

  1. fhhakansson Says:

    Wonderful poem. The imagery of morning is spot on, As a reader I felt that the feeling of the passage of time, the loss of time, and the wish to remain in a hazy state were dreams are real got through to me.

    • jactherat Says:

      Thanks for that.I wrote this some years ago and felt it was quiet evocative and thank you for pin-pointing some of the ideas about time I was trying to evoke.

  2. Brian Moseley Says:

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    • jactherat Says:

      Hi, me too. No sensible response really, other than to check every day and clear it all out. I find it a real pain but not sure what else to do. It’s worth checking though as sometimes something credible slips through. I think I now just accept it as part of the hazard of having a blog.

  3. watch dog Says:

    watch dog
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