Thorin N. Tatge
To “Morning has Broken” by Eleanor Farjeon
Morning has broken, call the repairman
Blackbird has spoken with him on the phone.
Cracks in the sunrise, cracks in the troposphere
Cracks in the heavens; everything’s blown.
See the rain rising; why is it rising?
Witness the dewfall, sticky and pink
Praise for the beauty of ten-sided snowflakes
Each has a copy somewhere, I think.
Dark is the sunrise, bright is the nightfall
See the full moon eclipsing the sun
Praise with elation, praise our insurance
Fix it so we can get some work done.
Morning has broken unlike the first morning
We have awoken to a terrible sight:
Bits from the morning of Theta Centauri
Are jumbled overtly and that isn’t right.
Bits of the sky are falling like flapjacks
One side is mirrored, the other sky blue.
They shatter like glass but taste good with syrup
Leaving just blackness with stars showing through.
Clouds on the ground, electric pink lightning
Fish flying backwards, hail made of clay,
Jagged horizons, dancing aurorae
Looks like we’re in for
one hell of a day.