The dawn chorus parts
the hues of early morn.
The dawn heralds the commencement of each day.
Above our heads the heavens and beneath our feet the earth.
We pause, breathe fresh air and say good morning.
In a trice, the soft-dying day departs, leaving us to meditate.
Shadows of evening steal across the sky, riding down the sun.
Now we have come to the sun’s hour of rest.
We stand in its peaceful stillness and say good night.
© John Littlewood, 2017
