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.
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