In the Morning

Over the waters Fog rises like incense. The night was heavy But now all things Are stretching out wings And the treetops are beautiful. Soon, every piece of us will Be bathed by the sun Who has been strung in the sky Lifted high with songs of praise and melodies of thanksgiving From creatures who have awakened To one more day. With dawning breaths, morning breaks, Like a yawning child, bright. But this beauty is not commonplace, And the trees clap their hands every time.