Invitations
When morning comes, with dawn creeping,
night’s silence breaks with shards of birdsong.
then the chorus arrives.
A new day brings its invitation.
When I learned to write, holding a pencil in small hand,
Images rejected meant short lines could speak
the sounds of an alphabet newly known
a new way to write thoughts.
When I learned poetry images and words were one.
I heard lines spoken together in friendship,
seeing hearing knowing a place of belonging.
I found a world of invitation.
Poetry of Moods and Moments 