The morning's light is soft and tender,
I sip my coffee - greet the day;
the hummingbirds are sipping theirs,
the world is silent in its play.

The sun is climbing in the heavens,
spreading warmth, erasing dark;
the rains that fell from days ago,
slowly lose their puddled mark.

The summer's touch is halfway gone,
it's such a subtle blend of light;
when days grow short and fold,
the evening, with the night.

The seasons come and quickly go,
in life's great passing scenes;
leaving fading memories,
of what their passing means.

The morning light is soft and tender,
it will not last too long;
I greet it with a lifted cup,
and welcome it's sweet song.