[NicknamedBob]

Morning

by Emily Dickinson

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh! some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

---

Where The Place Called Morning Lies

Morning lies beside you, while you’re sleeping in your bed,
Morning grows inside you, filling up your dreamy head.
When you go to sleep at nighttime, darkness entertains your eyes,
As you’re sleeping, it is changing, like the world’s dreamladen skies.

Your whole day is filled with wonders, growing new from yesterday.
From the firstlight to the embers, you can watch them all at play.
But the morning is more magical, Phoenix-like it rises new,
To begin your new tomorrow, and it all begins in you.

You’re the garden for this magic. You the soil it flowers in,
In your quiet hours of slumber, Castle You it towers in.
Your heart waters well tomorrow, with the dreams that flow in you,
Dreams that will come true tomorrow spring from freshets all anew.

Morning is the child you’re bearing, as you labor in your bed,
You will nurse it through its rising with the sleep still in your head.
As the mother of this sleepmate, you must see it grows up right,
You don’t want to show your tears to see it dodder into night.

NicknamedBob . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . April 21, 2007

[Soaring Feather]

Hello Bob,

Absolutely beautiful. Good to see you. Thank You.

[starbase]

That's a superb piece Bob. Bantering with one of the masters of the past, while being instantly published around the world. The miracles of modern technology!

Ironically I may be in the land of tomorrow right now, being so close to the Land of the Rising Sun and all!