.

Morning Witness

To greet the dawn, I crossed a meadow green,
still blanketed in jewels of morning dew.
I sat upon a rock, still and serene,
and watched the sky transform from black to blue.

Even before the silhouettes of trees
defined the border of the unborn sky,
I heard the morning song of chickadees
and listened as a loon bid night goodbye.

The entrance of the sun brought colors forth
in hues that brightened slow from dark to light;
‘twas not for me to judge this beauty’s worth,
but merely to record the glorious sight,

and then to make my way from whence I’d come,
with miles to walk to find my way back home.

.

.

Sunrise in the Pacific Northwest

When I wander the dark, pre-dawn streets of this town,
with its sawmills all quiet, past pastures and trees,
I will often stop, hearing the beautiful sound
of the unbroken silence, while its people all sleep.

Then the feathered small heralds start painting the gray
with the songs of sheer joy and sweet hope that they sing,
all the nocturnal creatures will tuck themselves in,
and hide, safe from the brightness the new day will bring.

Next, the sun slowly creeps from its far away bed,
and the dawn gently kisses the landscape below;
like a lover, its beautiful tender caress,
rouses forest and field in the soft morning glow.

Crystal clarity grows with a purpose and strength,
building anticipation. Each color released
adds itself to the glorious moment of truth,
when sunshine erupts over hills to the East.

Soon the world is awash in full color and light.
Morning glories unfurl, exposing their hues
without shame to the sun and its life-giving rays,
standing strong in each meadow, amidst sparkling dew.

.

.

Dusty Grein is an author, poet, graphics designer, professional editor, and book publisher. Originally from Federal Way, Washington, he currently lives in the hills of central Oregon, where many of his 21 grandchildren occupy much of his free time. When he is not busy writing, editing, and producing books for others, he donates a great deal of his time and graphics talent. In honor of his first-born grandson Eddy, lost to SIDS at 13 weeks old, he creates free memorial images for bereaved families, with a special focus on infant and pregnancy loss. His blog, From Grandpa’s Heart… is followed by fans around the world.

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15 Responses

  4. Roy Eugene Peterson

    Dusty, both poems are beautiful on their own whether or not one sees the touch of Frost. Of course, “with miles to walk” is a paean to Frost.

    Reply
    • Dusty Grein

      Thanks Roy. I write first and foremost for myself, and by challenging myself to follow Frost’s style, I think it has made my own work a little better.

      Reply
  5. Mark Stellinga

    Dusty, outstanding visuals and both with a refreshingly delightful themes. A nice way to start the week. 🙂 BTW – I see you do some publishing. If you’d be interested in tackling a VERY BIG book of strictly rhyme & meter, let me know. I’m at http://www.writerofbooks.com. I live in Iowa.

    Reply
    • Dusty Grein

      Thanks, Mark. I would love to discuss the process of publishing with you, and will check out your site. As you can probably tell from the work, I live in the Pacific Northwest; I just moved from a tiny town in western Oregon, to a slightly bigger small town in western Washington.

      Reply
  6. Paul A. Freeman

    Firstly, Dusty, what an awesome author’s biography. I’m surprised you can find the time to write.

    I love the simplicity of ‘Morning Witness’ and ‘Sunrise in the Pacific Northwest’, both of language and theme. It’s made all the more poignant since I recently found my stressed out self sitting quietly and forcing myself to relax for eight hours until after morning broke.

    Thanks for the reads.

    Reply
    • Dusty Grein

      Thank you, Paul. As one of my favorite SCP voices, your comments mean a lot. I think that the simplicity in most of Frost’s observational work is one of the largest elements of their charm. His sharp eye, and expressive narrative hide the deeper context, and let the beauty of the scenery shine through.

      (by the way, finding time to write is ALWAYS a challenge, but for me, it’s a little like breathing, you can only hold off for so long). – D

      Reply
  7. Alena Casey

    Lovely poems about a lovely time of day. One of my favorite lines is “Then the feathered small heralds start painting the gray”.

    I like Frost a lot. About a year ago I had decided I wanted to read more Frost, and I found a book of his poems for 25cents at a library sale. That was a great day.

    Reply

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