I Love To Watch The Morning Poem by Jim Yerman

I love to watch the morning…to sit out in the breeze…
and watch the clouds caress the mountains
and leaves billow on the trees.

The bats, who only the night before
were trying hungrily to be fed,
see the light and now with bellies full
are heading off to bed.

The crickets, who in the darkness
were the loudest sounds that could be heard,
are ready to relinquish their melody
to the singing of the birds.

And the birds, who soundly slept the night away,
now slowly open their eyes
and, realizing it's morning,
stretch their wings and fly.

The morning fills her canvas beautifully…
painting trees and mountains and glens…
then, not satisfied with her first attemp,
paints them all again.

In fact she never seems too happy
with her painting at first sight
as she's constantly changing brush strokes…
Moving shadows…shifting light.

Yes I could sit our here all morning
watching the morning adjust her hue…
listening to the ever changing sounds around me…
in fact…
I think that's just what I will do.