Waking up to dervishes.

https://www.pexels.com/@quang-nguyen-vinh-222549/

Morning tugs at the fog,
like a child tugging at its mother’s sheets.
Hills, shoulders, emerge from the night,
blinking in virgin light, unsullied with the day.
Gulls and shrill voices fill the air,
whirling dervishes of energy,
looking for scraps, fingers of toast.

Linking this to d’Verse Poets Monday Quadrille. This week Linda Lee Lyberg is hosting, and has chosen the word ‘morning’ for our 44 word quadrille. See more at:(https://dversepoets.com/2022/08/22/quadrille-158-morning-has-broken/).

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20 thoughts on “Waking up to dervishes.

  1. I love to watch things emerging from the fog, I’m glad you used it.
    At first it reminded me of mornings in ElPaso, Texas. We lived at the beginning of a mountain and could see the fog accumulation over the town in the valley. IT WAS YELLOW, pollution.
    Our EPA cured it before we left, eight years later.
    ..

    Liked by 1 person

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