Bright! My soul breaks over yonder tree tops, Golden lockes brushing emerald shoulders.
Heaven’s image resolves itself, imprinted on a blue canvas draped o’er the sky.
The little birds poke their heads out their nests. Their melodies fill the air as they fly-
Bright! Illuminating the morning dew drops, my Sol doth waken all earth’s creatures.
The mighty oak rises and stretches its arms. O! What strong, sturdy, tow’ring stature,
Rays seep through the greenery, eves stooped low. ‘Neath the limbs,scattered grasses and fungi,
Each shouts “O! what a morning!” as the sun beams gently caress the earth where they lie.
And sweet, the humming breeze brushes over the land, whispers “Good Morning,” to the world.

The Crocus creeps out of bed, shedding its nightclothes and donning a new violet dress.
Hovering hummingbird’s hymns harbor a mystical murmuring music, silent
And meditative. The sweet sap she sips soothes her elongated lips, in her nest
Sit pale precious eggs she must keep warm. Miss spider sits above spinning a new web
That snatches the dewdrops out the air. A newborn fawn wobbles as it wanders, it tests
The legs that let it explore the bight new world over which the morning has been bent.

Midday
Caterpillars munch on greens and worms feast on earth, a luncheon splendid and filling.
A popping woodpecker pitters and patters as he plunders for pests in ‘neath the bark
Of a tree whose life has long been past. Smacking the ground in a deathly rain, the arcs
Of squirrels who bound and leap shake walnuts from the branches of the trees and shattering
Once their descent has been completed. And the blue sky above, songs of praise it sings!
As the white puffy clouds take up the round, echoing the song of the angels, “Hark!”
And more clouds find wonder great song, so they gather, and soon all that’s heard are
The bass who reach low in their rumbling throats. White turns to grey, and the wind is sighing.

Plip! Plop! Two little drops. Thick silence broken by the trick’ling of the sprinkled rain.
Then another. And another. Then five more. Then ten. The tapping begins to grow,
And soon a downpour begins to show itself to the ground. The animals all stay
In their shelters and dens, their nests and homes, To keep themselves dry, and stay out the cold.
The rumbling thunder draws closer, a flash, a crash, lightning strikes! The trees start to sway.
No sound but the storm, no sight but the rain, no feeling but wet, no scent but the mold.