Sunrise

Glorious is the sunrise,
Night is on the run.
The sky is opening up,
For the coming of the sun.

How delightful is the day,
Breath is long in taking.
There's mistiness on the distant blue,
While nature still is waking.

Trees stand tall in beauty,
Running down from upland clines.
Tucked within a stony closure,
Mid a slope of growing pines.

And in a place near by,
Grey hawks take their flight.
Where craggy-heights reach down,
Lifting shadows of the night.

Soft-winds come up...to play,
As shafted streaks are drawn.
Making the sunrise...beautiful,
All filtered in...by dawn.


E.P. 1908 - 1989