More than It (December Dawn) Seems...

This morning kicked off its tick-tock shaped sun-kissed socks and shoesbefore I was able to complete the poem that burst into wanting-to-be shortly after waking... The beauty of meditation and the duty of obligation always com/posing stiff competition! Sometimes a poem culminates best not pressed/suppressed by sheer determinationbut by releasing its fragments until they returnin whispers begging to be penned.So it was today...I began dipping chocolate bars and maybe because myfingertips were chocolatey and my mind at easelines teased and flickered,  begging me to wash my handsand capture them before they waft irretrievably away 😂🙏 On I forgot to flip over the recipe card for homemade Chocolate Bars, to show dipping instructions.I am sharing the dipping instructions instead,  from Jim's (husbands') aunt.(who makes perfect chocolate bars every Christmas)Melt your preferred variety of chocolate (I used semi-sweet blocks)over LOW heat. (put water in a pot and set another pot on top and let  the chocolate melt at around 3 or 4 temperature on the burner.)(add a bit of shortening or Paro-wax for glossier finish.) Dip and cool! This morning showcased a most welcome sunrise after a stretch of unsunny dawns! Dawn seems to wear a prayer-like solemnity where new mercies spillAs heavens pale and lift the veil that yester-dusk lowered untilWe couldn’t see December’s close-cropped lea, the dark and leafless copseEtched in stark magnificence against brilliant, westerly backdropsThat dimmed and disappeared; earth’s tiered sweeps shrouded by a seaThat drew away Today laden with ample opportunity Dawn seems to sing! Every morning the old is reborn and made newAs mercy grants rekindled chance to learn to love as we ought toHumbly aware of He who cares and helps us bear our shares of MustBefore we pass through that last door of Soul-to-God and dust to dustAnd thus, because life is precious and Time a Very Fleeting Flow’rDawn seems to wake an urgent ache to make the most of every hour ….each moment rife with unlived life becoming lived; the untouched, touchedAnd often we forget what we beget as dawn is crudely crushedBy hands and feet; demands compete and how we meet them will becomeWithout disguise, the ink that dries in a Book tabling each day’s sumWhile ticking clocks keep kicking off the shoes and socks at dawn rebornAnd sometimes we are prone to see nothing at all but 'morn-to-morn' …and often dawn seems here and gone without a second thought or prayerA gift from God we barely nod at as it drifts, not to thin airBut to a page, where age to age is recording daily replyIts telling proof spelling the truth that will be futile to denyThen, pray that want may be subdued by gratitude as mercy streamsRenewed; where dawn is like a glimpse of Heaven bursting at its seams © Janet Martin And, let we forget!!!As true now as in the days of Jeremiah's lament... Through the Lord’s mercies we are not consumed, Because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “Therefore I hope in Him!”22-24