Sunday Morning Rising

A raucous crow
regales the sun
with his vocal repertoire,
So pleased with morning
he opens his mouth
and out pours a grating song
that rakes the day with laughter.

His voice
a washboard of cacophony,
Yet even in its harshness
there is a sense of balance,
a backdrop for the sweeter song
of smaller bird, a celebration
of a world in accord.

Sun rises over this Sunday morn,
confronts night’s shadows
with a smile,
sparks the world
with the radiant glow
of peace.
Mankind is sleeping.


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