Morning Practice

Each day, I stand upon the circle.
With gratitude, forever present.
No thought, to yesterday or morrow.
Just here, to witness lunar crescent.

With orange, the dawn has broken.
There’s dew, upon this carpet green.
Sprinkled webs, still in the making.
Spirit’s here, it already seems.

On bended knee, a prayer is started.
A prompt, once more to dance.
Tobacco pouch, at the ready.
To greet this day, with pure romance.

Mayflies, hover on warm updraft.
Wren, hops upon the fence.
Blue Tits, in and out of boxes.
Bees, buzz towards the scent.

Golden shafts, draw me in connection.
Stretching up, I peer to see.
Beyond, I sense the black sun.
My heart beats, to infinity.

I call, upon the warrior.
The nurturer and the child.
Some days, it’s ever so stormy.
Others, more benign and mild.

There’s no change however, to this ritual.
For I’m committed, to this path.
A joy to perform, this spiral.
With mirth and mirk, I bath.

​By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2021

​If you care to comment on this poem at all and the emotions that it brings up for you then please feel free to do so below.

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