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Morning Songs
February 3, 2016
The golden honey grass sways back and forth,
The sun dissolves the silky velvet dew.
A gentle breeze develops from the North,
The birds begin to chirp, the day's anew.
The crunch of little feet on fallen leaves,
A child chases a butterfly through brush.
Small dappled shapes of light shine through the eaves,
A stream speaks of a garble and a gush.
A snapping twig disturbs the sweet moment.
The child stands oh-so-still in quiet fear,
Then sees a small tan head emerge the tent
Of trees, a staring soul, a nervous deer.
Oh how I wish these happy times would stay,
These morning songs just take my breath away.
© Dan B., Papillion, NE
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Don't we all miss those younger days, when we were carefree and innocent. I hope this poem takes you to a happy place.