Morning Is Broken Poem by Vera Sidhwa

My colors haven't intermingled,
Just as yet because dawn hasn't
Accepted the paintbrush and canvas of God.

And God doesn't care if coffee was drunk
Before the mortal began his artwork,
The mix of colors from his palette,
Though eye-catching could not make sense of the palette and brush, and so could not,
Quite catch-up with nature's details.

But this artist felt hints being dropped,
From above and below him.
His paintbrush swirled into subtle
Colors no one recognized.

The artist leaned back and did not even try to attempt to decipher his creation.

What he couldn't accomplish,
He just enjoyed.