Poem Hunter
Morning Mnemonic
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Morning Mnemonic

Poem By Rachel Dacus

From a twig in the vast candelabra oak
the hummingbird’s castanet ticks off time
by inches. It paces my feet as I climb
past grounded doves that huff and squeak
into flight, trailing handkerchief wings.
I slip through a slur of slowing cars, weave
a list of duties through brain’s chatter, but leave
routine behind as the jazzy morning rings,
telegraphing something I once knew:
how to pot-stir, sage up an inner brew.
I bend to the impulse to run away and see
poppies’ wild alleluias on chartreuse hills.
To hear a dither of voices as water spills
down a ladder of monotone symmetry.
Recall if I can this one forgotten thing:
to rock grass water under sheer sun and sing!

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Comments (1)

I read this and I am the bird. And I am remembered to keep singing. I thank you.