Incandescent the filtered light of morn,
refracted through sky and glass,
as delicate the sway of curtains sheer,
softening the golden rays to warm,
as slumber stirs in glows of remembrance.
Buds now appear on winter claws,
springs promise of blossoms white,
as sleeping giants come alive,
the sun-kissed bows alight with burgeoning shoots,
green dots alive and seeking.
Skies now clearer, chased away
those gloomy greys, as blue extends forever,
in a sunny cloudless haze,
and birds join the morning, their sweet calls endowed
with all that spring does offer, from winters shroud.
And peering out my window,
I watch the sun aspire as if pulled by rope up high,
as time whittle notches on sturdy trunks avowed,
the test of time its stoic measure,
living long and prospering, so proud.
And the cat has found a warm earth bed,
beneath the sun he rests his head
and watches birds there on the grass,
hunting worms and creatures small,
he wonders what they’re for.
Long passed wanting to chase,
he of middle age just a waste of time,
when the sun is there to soak,
warm that middle age spread,
as time in absence, oblivious in his head.
The dog follows with interest,
the sun too a panacea for all ills
as she lies on the cool porch tiles,
watching the cat, out of respect
and a sense of self-preservation.
Blessed morning, spring has sprung,
and another day of sun,
as all that winter lethargy has gone,
now its time for action,
chores to do and food to make,
and writing to be done.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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