On the brush of morning a wisp of air
a tendril round my senses, like sweet perfume
Liquid skies that move with the waves
of a soft whispering wind
Calling the birds of the air, calling butterflies;
Each jostled thought calms as my remote lips  
cup and my eyes feast on a clear view
of one Godly, beautiful day*

Special calls from ancient pine trees with arms
loaded with pinecones and sentinel scents
My oh my, how I love the early morning
with all its aerate lawns and flower beds

First glance, first kiss, first contact
nature is cupping her velvet ear and
listening to me, truly listening;

As I gulp each morsel of peace it imparts,
I know without doubt that have been
truly love, this very morning.