Morning Light

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Morning light comes late

she puts cinnamon in her coffee

sits down and knows.

she knows. she can feel it.

a soft cloak of fresh snow

has covered the earth

while she was dreaming of

riding her bicycle in the rain.

Sounds dampen, the pale morning moon blurs, she thinks of icebergs, blizzards, glaciers how dire and heavy and foreboding

or, how blue and breathy and sublime.

The cabin walls sing:

this is not a plain day.

Though the wind skirls she puts on

her coat, boots, mittens

smells the cold air, walks to the river

where children are whooping in the

magic and ravens watch

from their driftwood perch

We’ll get sunburned on the ice! (someone says)

Maybe in Australia or Bali,
but not here.

She stays warm by

pushing kids on sleds

carrying a baby on the trail

gathering firewood.

This is not an ordinary day
in all of its ordinariness.    She shuts the cabin door.   Snowflakes swirl.

Light leaves early.

She stays warm by lighting candles,

by imagining a sky painted bronze,

by gazing at the fullness

of a winter’s moon,

her heart a clear river: deep

and gloriously, complete.


0 thoughts on “Morning Light”

  1. Ah, nice job, felt your every move, keeping warm playing with kids, my winter secret that I miss now. Not even a dog to chase now. The warmth of lighting candles, who cares how much heat they give off, it's the flame that warms. Well done, missy! I miss your cabin, though I've never been. Can't wait to x-country ski up there someday… with snowshoes on my back when I can't cut trail anymore… beautiful photos too, ah. You got me with "icebergs, blizzards, glaciers, how dire and heavy and foreboding or, how blue and breathy and sublime." as I saw the icebergs and mini-glaciers of Lake Superior waves, and we had our blizzards, while everyone else got dumped on overnight, we had our 3 ft over a week. Blue sky and ice, and breath, truly sublime. I'm sad I have to wait until next winter again, as I'm having a knee replaced.. (donated all my cartilage in my youth, ha). I'm passing you around, has anyone from here contacted you? Cheers and love, enjoy your winter months… Mike

  2. I remember once waking up in the morning, and the snow was so deep in Marquette that we had to dig our way out. It was drifted halfway up the front door; we just wanted to go out and play, but of course, we had classes all day. Same blankety warm feeling. Good luck on your knee…and get back to shoveling!

  3. It doesn’t take much to make it all come alive, does it?
    A few words, well-chosen, an eye for the small detail, an ear for the small sounds and a soul to drink it all in.

    I am so glad you came to find me, now I can always come here and drink you in.

  4. I can feel your beautiful day, the way the light shines on snow, the swirling, the ravens and crows, the candle light. Thank you for your inspirational words and spirit, too, Monica. I love pausing by your blog to feel the extraordinary ordinariness of everyday.

  5. I love this! …"while she was dreaming of riding her bicycle in the rain…." "Her heart is a clear river. deep, and gloriously complete." My first time here, I will certainly be back.

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Welcome to the creative playground of Image, Sculpture, Verse.  I live in a river town nestled in the Chugach Mountain Range of Southcentral Alaska.



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