When The Morning Comes Alive Poem by Jim Yerman

It happens every morning in the mountains a little after 5.
The weary evening begins to ebb and the morning comes alive.

The stars, the moon and the dark of night are all fading
There's a stillness in the air…
and in the silent tranquil interlude…you gradually become aware

that you're about to witness one of natures awe-inspiring gifts…
You watch the ebony blanket of evening slowly start to lift…

and out of the evening's residue the morning begins to peek…
and somewhere in the darkness…the first bird begins to speak…

She clears her throat at first, and I imagine, flaps her wings
then stands up tall upon her branch and sings and sings and sings.

Then another bird begins to sing…her original morning song
until the mountain is a chorus of birds…harmoniously singing along.

As the night pulls back her blanket…the day can now expand
and you barely have time to catch your breath as sunlight glides across the land.

Every space that was cloaked in darkness is now bejeweled in light
and you smile at how magically…day has replaced the night.

And you feel lucky you were there to witness…this brand new day arrive…
And blessed to have experienced the wonder…
when the morning comes alive.