…
in mo(u)rning,
we sing our sacred
dawn-songs, allow
the bell to toll for all
we’ve lost.
We’ve tossed and turned
all night, held the world
tight in trembling hands
and too-full clouds
with false linings.
We’re pining for some
signal, some
(sea)siren, some way
to spill our salt that
might scatter this
crimson, bring a
brighter day.
..
Day 11 of Poetic Asides April PAD Challenge.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
This is gorgeous, but I really want the last word to be “day.”
Done. I agree. I like the rhyme with “way,” also.
Yep. That’s half the reason, baby.
love it – goes well with my latest post!
“some way / to spill our salt that / might scatter this crimson” — beautiful.
Hope… We wake with hope.
I loved this.