Singing

Singing

How beautiful is a day dawning,
the way the soft grey tones
colour imperceptibly,

brimming with the golden greens of birdsong,
the blue shiver of new leaves,
and the salt tang of pink-blushing sky.

Birds fly, skim, swoop
with the whoop of uncaged children,
racing the sun-pouring,

the thick yellowness of it, swilling the meadows,
the waiting trees, with the colour,
the taste, the heady scent of spring light.