It’s predawn, and the wood doves are silent.
The sun slumbers under the sea.
One blackbird sings achingly sweetly
diluting the darkness with zeal.
Further off, past the sound of the breakers,
first light limns the edge of the world.
The wood doves and we and the blackbird
are witnesses: sunrise is grand.
Fine, fine poem!
Thanks, Tom :-)
What an uplifting poem! Today is my 75th–great gift!
Thanks, Sandra. And, belatedly, happy 75th! (I just saw your comment.)
Sent from my iPad
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