Morning

 

I woke up to see on Sunday morning

a day made bright and pure.

I held my daughter in my arms

and softly walked up the hill.

 

We saw a poor patch of bush

which sunlight and shade had drawn.

We listened to the birds which called

in songs of joy and sorrow.

 

As silver clouds out sung the sun

and brought darkness to the earth.

We stood there silently to wait

the yellow warmth’s return.

 

A dog barked and my child

barked back

and time woke up again.

The sun shone clear blue in the sky

and a little bird cleaned his wings.

 

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