'Fore day's first light the birds arise,
heralding in dawn's reprise,
glow eastern skies of royal hue,
illuminating morning dew.
The sun then crests the mountains low,
dousing all in warming glow,
creeping slowly ‘cross the sky
in painful measure, by and by.
spattered sun spills through the tree,
morphing with the canopy,
and ever still the birds they sing,
including those with metal wing,
who’s song is deep and unsublime,
jetting swift to keep the time,
and stop they not til darkness falls,
muting slow the varied calls—
as each of them doth drift to sleep
the air is filled with one less peep.
Silence soon consumes all things,
save for the whispers that wind brings;
a gentle breeze thus sways the tree
and make its leaves dance gracefully.
Clattering spades applaud Earth's sigh,
which shimmer soft in moon-lit sky,
while cool air stirs around one slight,
uplifting senses all but sight.
Then all is still—all is right,
and all is safe throughout the night.
No comments:
Post a Comment