The Beauty Of The Morn - Poem by Talmadge Rogalla
She reminds me of the beauty of the morn. A precious
bright glory beaming down on my half open eyes.
Smiling I breath in the fresh crisp air as the birds
twitter above the mist of the valley.
The cockerel announces the coming of the dawn as I
look up and see the many bouncing bunnies happily
hopping a trail through the crisp frost. The ground
hardened in the chill of the cold moonlit night.
Exhaling a warm vapour in the crisp dawn I gaze up
with a blink and observe the silence and feel her
warmth in the beauty of the cool morn. Her rays
awake my soul as I stretch stiffly and rub the sleep
from my eyes.
I crunch, crunch, crunch my way through the snow
white fields as the sun warms my presence with the
warmth of her orange glow. She is an awakening, a
radiance to cast away the shadows of the lunar lit
Her presence melts my steps as I breath in the
cool freshness of the morn and exhale the ghost of the
night before. How wonderful her radiance causes the
delicate dew to twinkle in the presences of her beauty.
Comments about The Beauty Of The Morn by Talmadge Rogalla
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye