Today’s poet, Lynn Domina, takes us into the world of a boy in summer and into his mind as well. What a Sunday blessing it is to read the picture she paints of the wholesome, the possible, and the limitless freedom of a young spirit.


The Good Morning

When the boy clicks the latch
as if his whole sleeping family’s safety resides
in his cautious departure, he imagines
he’s walking into heaven. The sycamore
drops a leaf onto his fishing pole
which the boy understands
is a promise. When he goes
to heaven, he wants it to be
at the time of morning
when the grass is chilly,
when the milkweed pods
begin to split.

The one porch step droops from so many years
of feet. Some days the boy rests
his bare soles there, convinced
that the slope catches extra heat.
Pushing their boat into the lake, he savors
the cold weight the water adds
to his cuffs. They will dry stiff with sand,
the discomfort oddly pleasurable.
He’s always wanted this: to be the one
who plans the surprise,
his family waking up
to a special and aromatic breakfast,
and to their awe
that he has risen so early
and waits in his long chef’s apron,
calling them.


“The Good Morning” from Corporal Works.  Reprinted with permission of Four Way Books. All Rights Reserved.


LynnDomina05.10Lynn Domina is the author of two collections of poetry, Corporal Works and Framed in Silence, and the editor of a collection of essays, Poets on the Psalms. Her recent poetry appears in The Southern Review, The Gettysburg Review, The New England Review, and several other periodicals. She currently lives in the western Catskill region of New York.

Photo Credit: Sandra K. Jones


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  • Breena Clarke July 29, 2013 at 6:13 am

    My goodness! I was led through so many rich, emotionally complex feelings that I was almost breathless at the end. I loved this boy instantly and was very fearful for his safety. It was a highly personal response I know, but I needed to say how moved I am.

  • Cheryl July 28, 2013 at 5:08 pm

    Oh my goodness! Is he going out alone? Did he put on a life jacket? Our modern concerns seem to cloud the view.