Morning Comes

July 14, 2020


Still dark.  And, look!  From east to west:  Venus, Morning Star.  Close by (to my eye), her friend Aldeberan, fierce eye of Taurus.  Earth’s moon.  Mars. Saturn.  If not for the western trees, I might see bright Jupiter!  All in their places.


Still dark, but brightening. I at my computer, about my work. On the roof, a party!  The Shadow-tails are playing chase. Thundering paws.


Hoarse hawk-cry makes me wonder if Clint Eastwood is riding into town. For sure the action on the roof of the saloon freezes.


Mama Robin’s on the nest. Catbirds mewing. I’m moved to go out for a garden patrol, before the heat of the day.


Cooking breakfast I spy our young hawk–on the patio, then on the fountain.  Strong yellow legs, handsome of breast and beak. Then he flies into the glass, and I wonder how his training is coming along.  Also if the glass will hold.


I’m grateful for this place.


From my  bower to yours–whatever shelters and gladdens you:




Author: Phoebe Dishman

Phoebe H. Dishman was born and raised in Beaumont, Texas. She is a wife, mother, and grandmother. An essayist and poet, she teaches adult Sunday school, compiles a monthly prayer calendar, edits the Big Thicket Association quarterly bulletin, and keeps a keen eye and ear open for birds.

One thought on “Morning Comes”

  1. There is a lot going on in the yard in the morning. We keep going out right after sunset to see the comet. We can see it on our night sky app but all we see from our house is the magnolia tree. It is supposed to be around for a few more days so we will figure out how to see it. We took Tyler and Jennifer in 1986 to see Halley’s comet. Tyler’s piano teacher was 86 and she told him about seeing it when she was 10 years old.



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