Golden Wings
Night time ends it’s reign of terror
animals come out to play
the bite is taken off the winters chill
the song birds greet the day
sleep is rubbed from morning eyes
hot coffee fills the air
a stillness almost holy
a quiet soft and rare
as the morning glows to red
the song bird really sings
to welcome the sun as it crests the horizon
on it’s golden wings.
Copyright © Trudy Diane Rider | Year Posted 2009
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