Magnificat of Morning - A Fold
Morning bespoke of bird song,
Wends her way in andante strides,
What could ever go wrong?
Sunrise, moonset, is morning's magnificat
As we know, bespoke of bird songs;
Fantasy of the earth standing still
Has been sipped like fine tea in long,
Pandemic permission curtailed days,
Still, will not cower to the fiction,
As Covid spanned its own season,
Even to morning bespoke of bird song.
© gillena cox 2025
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I love morning birdsong! And Covid did span its own season. A lovely fold poem, Gillena! 💙
ReplyDeleteThanks for your appreciation Merril
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Your poem seems to answer its own question. Though no matter what goes wrong, the morning birdsong goes on.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your appreciation Melissa
ReplyDeleteMuch♡love
I love the way ‘Morning bespoke of bird song, wends her way in andante strides’, Gillena. Nothing can go wrong as long as there is birdsong.
ReplyDeleteThanks for your appreciation, Kim
ReplyDeleteMuch♡love
A stunning fold poem, Gillena! ❤️❤️
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