A Morning Gift
I look across the rays of morning sun,
The roosting birds first day flight has begun,
They soar up high and swoop and swirl as one.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,
My gaze lifts to where the air is colder
And thick clouds drift o’er the mountain’s shoulder.
In Cape Town, Table Mountain is white caped,
With cloth like clouds it is mistily draped,
The neighbouring peak is lion head shaped.
Signal Hill’s resident wind gives a lift
To the Para gliders who take off, drift.
All give my camera a morning gift.
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