Birds sound the wake-up calls,
An opened door gives the view,
Of smokey clouds; still, unmoving,
Not like the pace
Of morning into a new day.
More like the tree sillhouettes,
Seeming to stay shadows,
Only they wouldn't;
For a deliberate sun comes out,
To shine-up the greeness.
That colour, so much,
A Caribbean sun loves.
© gillena cox 2023
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