The moon sits slouched behind the clouds
Whilst softly hoots the vigilant owl
The brisk air filters through the trees
Its crisp veil whispers attentively
Cradling leaves with morning due
Its gentle tones of silver hue
And undertones of morning light
Perforate the stillness of the night
The sluggish stir of feather heads
With idle call breach from their nests
And subtle sweet sounds are tenderly born
As nature welcomes a new morn