The Dawn
The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves of oak
Skylark flitting from bough to twig
Dawn breaking from its evening cloak
Silence surrendering to new life's jig.
Fenland life awakening, yawning to the rise
Of sun's warming beauty, filling oe'r Earths skies.
The moon fades with gradual ease of time
Its evening shadows eclipsed by suns' rising prime.
Streams of ribbon meander, gentle dreams
Wander by the birch of forest glen.
Glistening, sparkling reflections of sun's beams
Filtering heavenward; raiment of soft sheen.
Cock crows his hour, robin sings his song,
Buckish hare leaps, birds of game play
Hide and seek with shooters throng;
Beaten up, open sighted, birds of prey.
Floral quilted hues upon carpet woven green,
Nectar guided insects hover on the wing.
Gold, incense, myrrh gifted to their Queen,
Warbled sonnets echo thus, this beautiful wonderous thing.
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