I wrote this poem years ago when a friend's mother was dying. I'd read Psalm 108:1-5 that morning. I'm sure a phrase or two of my poem will echo from the psalm, although it doesn't follow it exactly.
Thinking of my friend and her mom early that morning I wanted to ponder three things: the dawning of a new day, a saint's heavenly birth, and our Father God's glory.
Scripture spoke to me in a special way, and I hope it will do the same for you through this poem.
On Monday a widow friend is going to share some fun with poetry. Writing is a therapeutic and fun release for grief and we'll explore it more next week.
Have a sweet weekend and STAY WARM! ❤ ferree
MORNING HYMN
by Ferree Hardy
I wake before dawn
and in the dark
begin the song
of ancient ways
and steadfast praise
With each note
the darkness fades
A rooster crows,
and spider sews
one last strand on her
dewdrop doily
Birds arouse
They join in
Mourning dove,
Robin, wren
Singing of You,
the Giver of all
Your goodness freshens
it brings cool hint
of snow and mint
to salt-stained skin
Red-rimmed eyes
and sadness-fevered
soul
Father of health
and life itself
with love beyond
the stratosphere
and faithfulness that
fills the sky
Your glory orbs
the earth we hear
And wrapped in shimmering
clouds
it reaches down to
collect the songs
of one weak woman
and birds.
