As Morning Comes
By butch
I prefer the silence; The light fills the room, As the sun shows itself from behind distant hills, Little creatures dance in the trees; The branches sway in soft breeze, Quietly behind the window, Leaves flutter, shaking off the night chill; As the dew clings to velvet green grass, Reflecting the new light, Shone like diamonds spread before me; Clouds race smoothly towards somewhere, To, perhaps the hills the sun has just escaped, Touching them in pursuit of gentle warmth; A red glow spreads from those hills, Attaching itself, for a moment, To the fresh, opaque blue of the morning sky; I stand in my meager domain, And, breathe this portrait into my soul, Letting it take me over; To focus me on my journey, To guide my passions, To become my purpose; I prefer the silence. Written October 7th, 2001 © on Oct 07 2001 10:29 AM PST 0 • 12
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"I prefer the silence; ..."