The glory of morning awaits our step
Days promise reborn as we slept
Dew is the tears that darkness wept
On each blade of grass the promise is kept
Light above chases shadows beneath
Bud and blossom and furled leaf
A gentle urging the day bequeaths
A shake, a nudge, a call from sleep
Angled shafts of grays and blues
Sifting through the morning hews
The veil is lifted, the colors are loosed
So that first light might brighten our view
Awaken, open, raise your head
Nights gone away, finally fled
Turn pink, turn blue, turn yellow, turn red
Day is coming, make your bed.
Poem written by 4rum