A Kind Angel Calls Here by Joan MacIntosh

Sunrise, by Joan MacIntosh

                                                    A Kind Angel Calls Here      
                                                       
                                                     Light glows
                                                     from the
                                                     old house window
                                                     like something warm
                                                     lives inside

                                                     Molten sunrise
                                                     born at
                                                     the ocean’s edge
                                                     pours radiance
                                                     through
                                                     the second storey                 
                                                     windowpane

                                                                                                         

                                                    First
                                                    a sliver of light
                                                    blooms to
                                                    blazing rectangles
                                                    of gold, flaxen
                                                    then
                                                    lightless again

                                                    The sun
                                                    visits the house
                                                    at daybreak
                                                    its brilliance
                                                    benevolent
                                                    like a kind angel
                                                    calls here



by Joan MacIntosh

Joan MacIntosh lives in St. John's, Newfoundland and writes poetry, fiction and essays, paints and journals. Her poetry has been previously published in TickleAce, Leafpress, Newfoundland Herald, and other publications. She finds that simple visual images find themselves in poetry and paintings and often discovers haiku through journal writing.

This poem was originally published by Words, Bumps and Noises.
 
j.macintosh@nf.sympatico.ca