Morning; Beauty
The beauty of the morning
is not lost on me.
I see the golden rays of sun as it rises,
turning the sky vivid,
with pinks and oranges and golds.
I know well the soft brightness
of early morning clouds,
the sweet drops of dew clinging to grass blades.
Do not ignore the sounds,
bright chirp of bluebirds,
squeak of crickets not yet returned to darkness.
Roar of car engines,
disturbing the quiet still of the morning,
breaking the calm in two.
And I sit in the grass by my driveway,
and lose myself to the beauty
of the morning.
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