A Poem by Sydney Peck

Sunrise

I rise from bed and open the window
Stars of Cassiopeia and small aurora are still visible
Venus hangs like a lantern in the eastern firmament
Goddess unmistakably beautiful and strong
Dominating the dark velvet void
Dawn is a yet unborn child following the black drama of night

In the uncertain hour before dawn
In the twilight zone of heaven's half-light
Dawn seems fragile and may never succeed -- still
A young half-awake day is turning back the dim
Dark cloths of night in a timorous start
As I light my flickering candle

Candle shadows on my wall:  myth and reality changing constantly.
As the pressing sun rounds the curve of the horizon,
The vault turns to dappled lighter shades of pastel.
I finish shaving and wash away the soap and the sleep
Steady air not yet heated and land is black
Ever-changing, embroidered
With golden and silver light across the azure blue

As I put on coat and step out into the day
The sun peers cautiously at me over the whitewashed wall.
Out of the blue, dabs of sun tip the mountain peaks and spread down
The warmth starts to drive away small clouds
Lit underneath with their glowing gold edges.
The empty empyrean floods with gold, becomes alive and certain.



Sydney Peck has been a school teacher for thirty years, teaching English in the UK, Ireland, Canada, and Russia.  He spends his spare time playing musical instruments (mostly fold music) and writing poetry.