Listen to poem:
To a flower
Every ray of sun,
is the trembling string of dawn’s guitar,
searching for a hymn
to strum through your bright petals.
At the break of day,
you are there,
when the first blush of sunlight
streams through a nearby wood
flows through a clearing
parts the mist
then threads itself through the doorway
into your open waiting heart.
Like a compass attracts
the Earth's magnetic field,
you quiver open to bloom,
humming soft chromatic chords
of shimmered radiance and color
resonating in your blooms.
Praise drifts towards you,
soft as caresses sighing on warm cheeks—
with hushed, whispered murmurs of wonder
from bees, birds, and passers by
who marvel at your
iridescent aura.
For every blossom
summons its own dawn choir
of light and joyous sound in chorus
birds, breezes, bees, morning mists—
all find voice to
rejoice in a hymn of praise
to you the flower at dawn.
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