The Morning
The morning broke pragmatically
As the warmth kissed the dew goodbye.
And the thunder clouds who haunted nigh
Had fled and left an open sky.
Where an aged thrasher voiced a song of love
That rained down from up on high.
The towered trees would cast their shade
As the Sun rose to melt the day.
And a breath of coolness came over me
To lead my soul astray.
And marvel at the many twigs and leaves
Still left from fall's decay.
A beguiling tiger lily lay at my feet
To mark its space from meddling spores.
And claim a right to live its life
As the victor of a callous Nature's wars.
But it brought me peace knowing of its bloom
Just like the day before.
A coppice wall stretched beyond the light
To give sense and realm to my domain.
And it served me well on weathered days
When subjected to a dreary sleeted rain.
But this pleasant morning would have none of that
So I had few reasons to complain.
A Man wavered at his assigned post
With a gaunt and haunting stare.
And mumbled tearfully as children do
Some long forgotten prayer.
But as to who and what the message was...
I was keenly well aware.
And the day wore on till night's first creep
With the laws of Nature well behaved.
But the thrasher still flew and spun its tune
Of a life so grand and brave.
And I took great comfort from its song of joy
As I lay peacefully in my grave.
The End
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