Ode to Dawn

June 10, 2026

This brisk morning's breath,

Those frivolous orioles,

This lush bed of clover, slumbering below

That sky world of periwinkle

Hanging glass chimes, clings

Playfully, peacefully

That sturdy sycamore offers a strong arm,

Holds them,

As lively gusts make them sing.

Canopy of cloud,

Oh, that air.

That humble sky!

Shifting, churning,

Coming into fragments,

Dancing;

That vapor, a ballerina,

The air, a lover.

Oh, would I sleep

Again, again,

Forever,

Just to wake again

And pray by morning?

Would I spend days longing

To see sweet darkness fall,

Just to know the dawn?

To wake and see that swell of light,

That fiery spot in the sky

and live that day to pray once more?

So wonderous, the world

The works, so sure.

It is June and the Indian Strawberries are bursting forth.

The squirrel, That juvenile

That blossomed rosebush,

Those sweet pansies,

Those susans, eyes black as dirt..

It is June and the world feels like magic.

It is June and i'm coming back to life again.

It is June and the day has come anew.

It is June and this morning song is singing to my soul.