image by Rebekah Choat
— honeysuckle
heavy morning
drifting slowly
down the mountain —
~ Rebekah Choat
mountain morning
Category Archives: poetry
Rain, rain…
Many days of rain,
and more to come. The sun is
a celebrity
now, making occasional
and brief guest appearances.
~ Rebekah Choat
Let Morning Come
image by Rebekah Choat
Let morning come, slow and wan,
battered by a night of storm;
all the day’s allotted strength spent
by six a.m. yet the day must go on.
Let morning come, weary and wet through.
Let the constant dove keep calling.
Let sparrows and finches congregate
in their accustomed place.
Let the praying Lady remember us,
now and at that hour.
Let be whatever will.
Let morning come.
~ Rebekah Choat
Song from Pippa Passes
image by Rebekah Choat
The year’s at the spring
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hillside’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn:
God’s in His heaven—
All’s right with the world!
~ Robert Browning, born May 7, 1812
Good Omens
Rain fell today through shining sun,
and the season’s first hummingbird
drank deep, unafraid, just outside
the kitchen window.
I believe these are good omens.
~ Rebekah Choat
Nightfall
image by Rebekah Choat
Dark is drawing in
under faintest veil of mist.
A single star is
shining over dusk-rose clouds
as crickets hum evensong.
~ Rebekah Choat
Familiar Shadow
image by Rebekah Choat
Familiar shadow, in whose company
I travel often in the failing light,
your presence has no terror left for me:
we simply walk, as long companions might,
in silence. We move slowly through the rain
and cold, and even when the sun comes out,
its brightness only serves to make more plain
your shape beside me. You linger about
my campsite, or just up around the bend,
ready to join me as I journey on.
You stay with me, as faithful as a friend,
not always close, but never really gone.
So now as morning breaks in clouds of grey,
we’ll go as fellow-travelers on our way.
~ Rebekah Choat
A Discipline
image by Rebekah Choat
Turn toward the holocaust, it approaches
on every side, there is no other place
to turn. Dawning in your veins
is the light of the blast
that will print your shadow on stone
in a last antic of despair
to survive you in the dark
Man has put his history to sleep
in the engine of doom. It flies
over his dreams in the night,
a blazing cocoon. O gaze into the fire
and be consumed with man’s despair,
and be still, and wait. And then see
the world go on with the patient work
of seasons, embroidering birdsong
upon itself as for a wedding, and feel
your heart set out in the morning
like a young traveler, arguing the world
from the kiss of a pretty girl.
It is the time’s discipline to think
of the death of all living, and yet live.
~ Wendell Berry
The Gloaming
image by Rebekah Choat
After day is done,
before night has begun,
a somber-sweet hour —
a deep breath, regathering,
returning to the center
~ Rebekah Choat
Gossamer
image by Rebekah Choat
Some moments are like
spiderwebs – light and airy,
strong yet delicate;
lovely gossamer things
barely visible on film.
~ Rebekah Choat
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