The early-morning whirring of the insects Seems like a suitable sound For creatures careening ‘cross the universe to make as their sphere spins ‘round and ‘round
Mornings in March Are all blossom and promise Chilly air kissing your skin Birdsongs signaling Death of the darkness A new day dawning without and within
Pale yellow new-day Dawning behind black trees, A sunset in reverse. Promise of today, Seeping through the leaves, Breaks the evening’s curse. The sun, unseen, affects this change With the light that it supplies. The moon, suspended, in the West Watches as the darkness dies.