Poem on a Sunday Morning

I look out the window at the morning hills. The dew is bright on the grass, and the trees are green.

I see Fluffy cats playing in the park Johnny has a new kite, he shows his friend, so good and strong.

Sunday morning, the best time of the week, a little breeze is across the grassy hills, and I am at peace.

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Poem on a Sunday Morning

• Allen Ginsberg