January 22, 2021
Photo by Mark Truman

A Poem by Mark Truman

Standing in the cold darkness
Waiting alone
Like so many mornings before
Hands thrust deep into pockets
Stinging breeze
Bringing the scent of salt and seaweed
Sound of waves caressing the shore
First tinges of pastel touching the sky
And so it begins
Dark forms taking shape
The world stretching
Before it awakens
Colors building, clouds swirling
All of nature anticipating
Until finally it appears
First burning rays over the horizon 
The magic happening
For the ten billionth time
A beauty so intense
As to leave a poet lost for words

To submit your own photo or poem, email Assistant Library Director Brittany Taylor at btaylor@clamsnet.org