As a sun’s light first appears,
Through the grey of night’s quiescence
And whatever fleecy clouds there are
Burst forth in luminescence;

And the morn’s own colored rainbow
Goes from Grey to Gold to Blue
Before these, the earthly eyes of man
As the skies do change their hue.

Lit buy a new light’s radiance
A new wonderous day unfurls,
Arousing dream-ridden sleepy heads
From their safe little dream worlds.

There is a morning feeling
When in morning skies we’re lifted
To where we’ve looked out far and wide
Across the earth with which we’re gifted.

Always it should be morning
No matter what time of day,
Or what of life’s repercussions
That morning feeling should stay.

Always it is the morning,
Somewhere on this spinning globe,
So always should the morning feeling
Fill our days with hope.

There is a morning feeling
When in morning skies we’re lifted –
A feeling of our satisfaction
With the life with which we’re gifted.

In a quietly shattered
Midnight moment
The hum and drone
Of the humdrum city
Is momentarily
Drowned by the noise
Of the stars.

I muse on life’s little
Pleasantries,
Such as listening
To the song
Of the stars.

The noise of the
Stars and the
Wail of the moon
Clenched in
Imaginary pleasantries
Of mind,

Where a mind is a
Haven of pleasantries,
As well as a den of despair.

Suddenly stopped the song of the stars.