Sun rises on our anxious world, <br />Streams of light pass through trees, <br />to uncover a partial waiting scene. <br />Robin the day’s first sound, sings, <br />the night watered grass, twinkles, <br />mimics nights departed starlit sky, <br />In the distance, a pale reflecting moon, <br />bids goodbye to our now emerging day. <br />And a silent life form of our dark, a moth, <br />struggles to find a private place to rest. <br /> <br />Air though cool, has hopes of warmth; <br />leaves on trees hang still, waiting, <br />expecting the arrival of the wind. <br />Robin quietens, a whispered hush, <br />calm enfolds our unfinished scene, <br />to give us a peace, a stillness, that <br />has a silence with a beauty of its own. <br /> <br />Golden orb rises higher in the sky, <br />faces, fluffy white clouds appear, <br />they hang motionless, suspended <br />over mountain tops, peering down, <br />staring, at our still awakening world. <br />Pale Moon falls to die in distant hills. <br />And our now faint moth is sleeping. <br /> <br />Sun has risen high, clouds evaporate. <br />Our world shakes then stirs, a breeze, <br />leaves rustle, move with light and shade. <br />Flowers open, bees work, long legged <br />insects fly, and the ants begin to march. <br />Song birds whistle, twitter, call, and sing, <br />to compose a melody of notes, that <br />sweetly feeds the garden of my mind. <br /> <br /> <br />16-04-2009<br /><br />Bob Blackwell<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/at-daybreak-2/
