The Morning Song Poem by Peter S. Quinn

The morning song of my cradle
As the time rotates on by
Each my step a sideway waddle
In the opening of morning sky
How lovely clouds there drift
Through their endless dance
The blue on to deep space swift
In their flowing of mystical trance

Like dreams going to somewhere
Where only night can be found
Filling the evening with fresh air
Steering the wind in their sound
Enlighten depth of the horizon
Like flowers of reddish and yellow
To carry them further peacefully on
On to the twilights of darkish glow

The morning that comes to awake
The mind and soul in their feel
With a feeling from night before ache
Those only with dreams are real
Every hour of depth and peace
Filling the loveliness here intact
In flow of the coming new breeze
That each new tomorrow attract