A clever way to rise in the morning is clear,
Illness vanishes from your toes and feet.
The blinding baking torture of heat hurtles
From the skies of golden damage, dangerous and cruel.
May the morning be mad with relief
From the endless dormancy of the night.
A night coloured by the generations is full,
The moon is full, children are fully adults
When you speak to them and converse in dreams
To one another, like the bells of hanging
And chiming, so chiming that they fall