On the crest of dawn
While birds start to sing
Their morning song
Hyperion welcomed by the glories of the morning…subtle quatrain bringing freshness…to body and soul…
Birds are very optimistic. They sing to their Maker whatever the weather. Beautiful write, Leonard.
A glorious salute to the sun. love, Allie xxxx
very pensive nostalgic..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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9/28/2023 11:54:18 PM # 220.127.116.115