The sun slips low, painting skies aflame,
With morning’s golden zeal, it calls our name.
Dewy blossoms sparkle with light’s gentle kiss,
Reminders of nature, of beauty and bliss.

Birds take to the sky, in joyful flight,
Singing hymns to the heavens, a pure delight.
Every dawn brings a promise, a brand new chance,
For hearts to awaken, and souls to advance.

• T S Eliot