On my way to buy a morning paper, #46

Sash of bullfinch, golden edged,
raised high above indigo hills
declaring its allegiance to the dawn.

On my way to buy a morning paper #45

Not, as first thought, a man up a tree with a didgeridoo
but the scrape of a branch against the hat of a close-standing streetlight

On my way to buy a morning paper 44

Sweet-pea coloured dawn, contrailed grey-laces loosened, corset not yet removed.

On my way to buy a morning paper, 43

Sun behind sufficient cloud to render it hard-edged
I ponder upon the possibility of a solar system.

Still.

Morning mist
gradually losing its greyness
muffles the sound of geese
down by the river

6.30, last sunrise of August

Mile-high plane scratches two-inch white line
across a perfect gold-fade-through-pearl-to-palest blue 
morning sky
Oh to be sat in its cockpit!

On my way to buy a morning paper #42

Morning mist

Yellow, well-blown roses

and finger-writ in condensation, on a car:

I ♥ COCK

Potential for annoyance

What I momentarily took to be a large rising moon (in the wrong place) was a plastic bag caught in the high branches of a tree opposite my window.   I know it'll sit there for weeks, cluttering my view of the sky.

later than I thought ...

... but even so, the double-stacked,
mother and sheltered young,
crocodiles of cloud

blue-grey and pink bellied
heading north to south across the sky
look sleepy and benign.

After a week of hearing it ...

In truth, the hardy, strong-sung optimism
of the early-morning blackbird
deserves a medal