Morning The sun has pierced the forest’s gloom,
Like a child that wanders home,
The shadows flee, the heartbeats loom,
And spring a waking world doth roam.

Green hues where sunlight breaks the dew,
With petals bright, and myriad leaves,
The quiet shifting air imbues,
The sense of life, and what it leaves.

In whispers soft, the morning calls,
To call us back from night’s embrace,
Through tendrils light, the small bird falls,
And finds its joy in sky’s wide grace.

• A D Hope

• A D Hope