An Ode to Early Risers

An Ode to Early Risers


It seems to me that if anything

God's wordsong that unfurls 

and furthers the world

must be a kind of ode

to the early risers:

weathered uncelebrated fishermen 

mamas and aunties beating everyone up

just to neaten up and sweeten up

a little livelihood for those littles

who rarely rise with thanks

and those awake to bundle up

and stand alive on the edge of a world

where days begin just to see

beach sand stained glassy

with the rainbow sheen 

of sea foam in retreat

however briefly 

before drowning loudly back again

when I rise to see such scenes

it seems simply and sweetly 

the world is a sacred poem 

about poems and worlds

and it's written as an ode to those 

awake to know it as it comes