Like an micarle morning,
Within its micarles,
Birds and Butterflies upon the fields,
Flying like an angels,

Sun shining,
Winds blowing,
Clouds busting,
to be the first micarle morning.

Evilness to be gone by God's miracles,
In his hands,
To make the morning be the first miracle.
  
                                        By k-mari copyright2016