Morning - Redondilla
The morning sky fills heaven azure bright,
and shining eye doth peek to show from height.
Earth's hymnal's opened wide for choral strains,
creation's chorus trolls the sweet refrains.
Birds warble tunes unscored from post and trees,
with early flights of droning busy bees.
The cattle lowing softly need their feed,
and bleating lambs with shepherd cry for need.
It's day's first light and colors wake anew,
with golden beams the palette's plain to view.
Of every shade this sphere becomes aglow,
for "I Am" paints his scenes including bow.
Dew glistens crystallike on flower's face,
embroiders greens and leaves with sparkling lace.
The white capped mountains rise in purple row,
their slopes alive where pine and aspen grow.
Our morning's fine cantata seems complete,
and we do praise this laudatory feat.
The stage's arranged with beauty so sublime,
the Play, Good Morning, shows its scene on time.
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