The Many Faces of Day
The sombre morning
hums a maudlin song, as burdened clouds
hang low, having swallowed up the dawn,
and expectant eyes keep looking for a break,
a crack through which that eternal blue can breath.
My heart is heavy, the day so bland,
of all I seek in light and hope,
yet storms and snarling countenance
is but a momentary bleak affront,
to nature’s rise and fall in every mood she takes.
And then that crack appears,
and light does in luminosity prevail,
shards like ethereal spotlights bless the earth,
and clouds as if dismissed,
pull themselves apart, regret their dark disdain.
And hearts warm to the hope in sight,
the broken clouds remiss, take flight,
and the victorious sun begins to sing,
joined by feather and all living things,
to welcome the wanted day.
No matter what she sends to earthly plight,
nature’s gifts forever ours to hold,
with every mood and colour she does paint upon the day,
tis we who find the beauty, the glory she portrays,
in this our journey of light.