Written by: Tucker Carwile Jr

                             Mornings are meant for me,
                                 quiet times to think,
                              gathering data for the afternoon.

                              Watching the morning sun rise
                                   against the turning sky.
                               Able to recount my past evenings

                                As the morning ages,
                                      the quiet is broken,
                                  by the business of the coming day.
                                 As my thoughts are pushed back.

                                 Until the next mornings sun.