The Morning Has Broken

Written over twenty years ago and appearing in ‘Almost Home’ and ‘Deadly Sensitive’ this poem seems to prefigure some of my recent sonnet-making. It’s about Spring but it is also about new beginnings so it feels appropriate for the beginning of a new year. The morning has broken The morning has broken A great red, jagged piece of it hangs in the sky, the sound of its breaking striking a thousand different notes and bringing me out of the house to stare at its destruction. Sitting and watching those other lovers In their youth and beauty, Night and illusions are over, As outside the sky is charged with change; The green and yellow of new growth Have become the colours of mourning. The mornin

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