A Winter Morning

Today at Poetic Asides, we were asked to write a “what won’t wait” poem.:

A Winter Morning

just when the darkness
seems the most dark, the coldness
the most cold
along comes morning, sweeping away
the last vestiges of night

 

A tanka, if you count syllables, is 5-7-5-7-7. I actually could have done it, by moving the word “along” to the third line, but logically, I feel it belongs to the fourth. So I just went with the s/l/s/l/l pattern.

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