What a chill touch
Madame Morning has,
But what lovely chords struck by my muse: the robin, or, the effervescent chickadee!
And look, over by the birch tree,
A charcoal fox prances in dappled light,
While raven wing darts between a delicate line of sight.
What fervor portrayed in the trembling day!
What majesty!
How subtle is the music sung by broken silence,
How divine!
For within the beating chest of the Morn’ there lies a precious balance,
Between those that sleep, the precarious quiet, and-
The gentle sun, praising the awakened chickadee!
The brave amber breasted robin!
They sing for me amongst budding greens, and rest upon a window sill,
Reminding me once again:
Mine lady of the woods
has beauty wherever one may look!