Swan Song

 

Early morning,
New day awakes.
Sights and sounds,
Sunrise astounds.

The night would like to linger,
But all to no avail.
Late gives way,
And darkness fades,
The stars begin to pale.

A glow erupts,
Rocks and forest and grass appear.
All eyes look up and anticipate,
The coming of the sphere.

Wispy clouds turn red and orange,
The heavens seem afire.
But clear skies soon will overwhelm,
When full sun takes the helm.

Ghostlike forms of deer and rabbits,
Squirrels and bats,
And wily cats.
Streak past as they flee the night,
As though to hide from certain light.

It’s almost dawn,
The grass is wet.
Turkey’s gobble,
But no orb yet.

Then suddenly in the eastern sky,
There it is.
The Sun ascends,
The day is nigh.

All is new,
And hope awaits.
Then magically,
Life celebrates.

And to think it happens every day,
No matter what we do or say.
So, in the morning look to the sky,
Your slate is clean, just wonder why.

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