How sacred is a summer morning
when night has fled and day is dawning.
The wind is warm and trees are swaying,
like nuns, lined up, on knees all praying.
The dew drop gems on leaves laid down
do gleam, more than a monarch’s crown.
The tiny bird that’s on the wing
sings sweeter song than we can sing.
Upon the hills the mist is moving;
the fading moon is disapproving.
For she must lose her borrowed light,
give way to sun’s majestic might.
The mothers wake their girl or boy
for schooling (no one’s jug of joy!)
The breeze that blew has ceased to breathe;
the air is still, the pavements seethe.
A summer morn ‘neath blue skies gleaming,
beside the sea, we should be dreaming!
At noon, when globe of gold is burning,
we’ll rue those hours we lost to learning!
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Author:
Blue-eyed Bolla (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 9th, 2021 05:49
- Comment from author about the poem: I love summer!
- Category: Nature
- Views: 42
Offline)
Comments5
A n inspiring rhyme Kevin -- those summer days draw poets to their praise and this is no exception my friend - a lovely read and applause for the beautiful picture too.
Thanks Fay. Despite the cares and worries we may have, it can still be a beautiful morning. 🌄
This is delightful. I enjoyed reading it. Best Wishes. PS It reminds me of Under Milk Wood (Dylan Thomas)----"You can hear the dew falling, and the hushed town breathing."
Thank you FF.
I too love the golden hour. The birth of the day is so inspiring. Great write Kevin. ; )
Many thanks AP
Very good words Kevin and I thoroughly agree with that last line.
Andy
thanks Andy
Ah! You paint a picture of summer so well!
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