I listen to bird whistles in my backyard.
Orange streaks, and linings silver, why,
There is every reason to gasp.
For morning has reached a clearing sky.
Hope smiles as moon lingers;
Orbits imagination to another try,
At authorship of cloud ocean and forest.
Wheels of toil, how they grind oh my.
Continuation whirls like everlasting;
To new day, under a clearing sky,
© gillena cox 2023