It saddens me to think that fewer and fewer people are getting up to enjoy the morning.
To hear the city breathing heavily as it lays asleep in its bed immobile, unmoving;
to see the rays of the sun shimmering over the puddles of dew on the ground before the heat wakes to soak them up.
Where has the joy of the morning gone?
I look for it around corner deli’s,
under the freshly printed papers,
in the warm smell of coffee grounds.
In children’s light laughter at Saturday cartoons,
and in the steam of a hot breakfast
illuminated in the sun’s first rays.
In the richness of color and structure
emphasized by dawns piercing lights
the melody of a new day rising
in the calls of the morning doves.
And when I think it has escaped me, once and for all,
I find it in the shade of Your love,
intermixed in words of Your wisdom,
wrapped up in the arms of Your grace.