The rising sun throws it’s first beams
across the morning glade.
These waking hours are as it seems
to me the strength of day.
I stop and take in as I walk
the newness of the sights:
the deer feeding among the stalks,
the hawk up high in flight.
For me this quiet time of day
is sanctuary here.
In this reprieve I want to stay,
in this, where God is near.