Sonnet 13, And Now... Poem by Peter S. Quinn

And now, when the sweetness of morning comes,
With birds and bees, and with the scent of flowers,
That at closeness shows, its wisdom and powers,
Before the earth starts its clock beating drums.
In the mornings, when colours, are more plums,
The daylight of dawn, the after night hours,
The moments in stillness where silences towers,
Until the first sound away it all strums.
I call it the name: the lighting of dawn,
When first steps from sleep awakens in joy,
With a singing from forests and wild lives;
When sun starts shining, at first, at each lawn:
All the shades from the night slowly destroy,
When colours that lay slumber slowly revives.