Larks Rise Early. Poem by Fay Slimm

Dawn has hardly blushed her entrance skyward
When I awake and rise, my favourite time
Is early morning. I will then accord
Space to later parts of day, but sublime
In every way to me is dawn. The lark
And I aim to catch the whispers of passing
Night as it bows it's way across the sky,
Leaves room for rising sun, who enters last
With royal flare, - - - while I discover why,
Meanwhile, each trilling bird competes with ease
In chasing breaking-fast with earthy worm.

I am pleased I follow larks, who early
Start their daily climb to life's new ceaseless
Call, leaving end of day to night-owl birds.

Both lark and owl enjoy their special time
And enter into what is called 'their own'
To magnify it. - - Feeling I must try,
I too breathe in new day before it's flown.