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/).
Writing Whatnots 
The child pulling at the sheets – this is a good personification
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Thank you JYP!
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What a mystical way to describe the morning: ‘whirling dervishes of energy.’ You’ve got my head spinning with the images now (In a good way).
I liked the personification in the beginning as well.
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Thank you Tanmay!🙏
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Beautiful imagery, especially love the hills as shoulders! 💓
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Thank you Tricia 😊
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My pleasure! 💖
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Marion, I like how you contrasted early morning and daybreak with the silent fog vs. the shrill gulls.
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Thank you Lisa 🙏
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You’re very welcome.
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What a killer first line!
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Thank you Linda – a great prompt to kick start the muse.
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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.
..
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Thank you Jim!
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I love the thought of mornings as a playful child…
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Thank you Björn 😊.
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Very nice indeed!
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Thank you Leyde 😊
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Those first three lines in particular are simply spectacular, Marion!
❤
David
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Thank you David 😊
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