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
night.

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.