She sings
Every morning,
shortly before a quarter to six,
she takes to the highest point,
above the dawn,
above the changing flush
of peach blossom skies,
upon the highest branch
on top of her world,
and she sings,
she sings,
as the dawn lifts the sky,
and the trees reach,
and stretch,
beyond the fading shadows
of a passing night,
the earth is stilled,
hushed in a growing silence,
to listen,
to learn,
and for you
to remember.
There’ll never be another day like this one.
Feel free to contact me. Be nice to know who my audience is and perhaps you can suggest some further topics or themes for my writing! And do give me feedback!
p1964km@googlemail.com
