What you should do each morning

I scribed this poem into my notebook a couple weeks ago and I can't stop from going back and re-reading it on almost a daily basis.  Nor do I want to.  It appeals to me very much.

It's just the sort of idealistic maundering that speaks to me on a very basic level.

Pull back the curtains from your eyes,
throw off the covers from your tongue.
Stretch your words out along the veranda
and greet the new day.

Open the windows of chance.
Let the light breeze of something happening
blow through the cobweb corners of your head,
the dusty stairs of thinking.

Eat from a deep bowl of ideas for breakfast,
take a large speckled wish
with fingers of buttered dawn birdsong.

Pull a poem on to each foot,
wear a painted shirt and symphony waistcoat.
And in your shoes soled with imagination
go out and meet the day.

~Robin Mellor

LINK

Comments

[Linda]

What a snappy, zippy, smiley bit of prose to live by! I wouldn't be surprised to see you skipping down the street with a huge grin plastered on your face first thing in the morning. You should warn the neighbors, tho'...

[rick]

Something about "the fingers of butter dawn birdsong" keeps it stuck to the refrigerator door of my memory.

[Mark]

Very nice. Mellor has some other fun bits of verse. Thanks for the link.

[Simon]

Linda, warning the neighbours would be no fun at all.

Rick, that is a door I'd like to stroll idly past a time or two.

[Jadon]

Glad you wrote it down there, Simon.