Morning is
for the birds,
the light of wing
swift of flight.
And for those who wake
and shake sleep’s dust
from their feet
and unloose the residue
of yesterday
as a discarded robe.
Morning is
for the birds,
ever resounding chorus
announcing the world’s beginning.
And for those who catch the tune
and message writ
in each shaking branch,
in each breast
that rises to the breath of wind
that moves within.
For those, who like the birds
see a promise stretched from sky to sky,
rising as a blessed sacrament
to wash the dark from the soul.
Ana Lisa de Jong
June 2018
Living Tree Poetry 