| Early Morning Blues and Greens |
|---|
| A distant night bird mocks the sun. |
| I wake as I have always done, |
| To freshly scented sycamore |
| And cold bare feet on hardwood floor. |
| My steaming coffee warms ny face |
| I’m diappointed in the taste. |
| But there’s a peace the early brings |
| The morning world of growing things. |
| I feel the moments hurry on |
| It was today, it’s died away, |
| And now it is forever gone. |
| And I will drink my coffee slow |
| And I will watch my shadow grow |
| And disappear in firelight |
| And sleep alone again tonight. |
