The Sun lifts itself high above the meadow
Like an invisible cyclops peering over all that’s below
                                    The birds gather like a battalion
                                         Then sing their dawn concert
                       Providing bliss after the night-time hush
Reclusive creatures emerge from their hideaways
                                          And drown in the sublime
Pearls of dew cover the grass underfoot
                   Holding reflections of the Sun
                              Like tiny goldfish within
Work done by the agency of the morning
Those gathered return to their subways and treetops
                                       And another day begins in full

4 thoughts

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