In the Still of Morning

Sun is rising as the gongs are struck; birds whistling for the few that listen. But trees are still filled with sap, as the clouds are still billowy white; skies still delight, as the bees still buzz. From black, to purple, to blue - the sun still shining like molten gold, the trees still standing high above the creatures, the creatures still lurking upon the earth; God's glory. In the still of morning life is still happening. NOTE: In this shape poem, it's supposed to resemble a Japanese pagoda. There are 17 lines, with the syllable count going like this: 1, 3, 5, 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, 13, 6, 6 - with the last two lines requiring a rhyme. Come try it out and let me know - I'm curious to see what others can come up with.