First Light
The roofs are still
but the sky begins to loosen—
a pale seam of rose
threading the horizon.
He sits in the quiet
before the town stirs,
jacket slack on his shoulders,
eyes catching the faintest
silver of daybreak.
Before bells peal,
no bird in flight—
only the promise
that the dark has thinned,
and the world
is willing to begin again.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 27th, 2025 05:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 51
- Users favorite of this poem: Tristan Robert Lange, Paul Bell
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Comments6
Cryptic in this poem I see a metaphor about hope that turns faith then knowledge that light comes after the dark and there is always a new beginning. Lovely set in beautiful imagery.
Thanks, Soren 🕊️🙏🏻 it’s so good to se how the poem opens up thought and ideas; also how it brings around concepts that have been cast afar off.
You are most welcome Cryptic yew my thoughts are often far afield
My friend, this is gentle grace in motion…a meditation of breath and light. The stillness feels sacred. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Most grateful friend, as ever! 🕊️🙏
Like the slow start to this.
You can see him sitting contemplating the day ahead, and who knows, it might be a better day.
Just like the gradual breaking on early morning light, before the sun pokes its head out ☀️🌅
Dawn and Dusk : Such magical times . Good one.
They are indeed magical, thanks Kevin. 🙏🕊️
The mood of the moment simply portrayed. Definitely a case of less is more.
Perfectly succinct 🙏🕊️
Every morning I awake isa good day Rik.
Andy
Thanks, Andy 🙏🕊️
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