The orange of morning

Stretches and yawns

Quietly over the hill

Tapping awake a sleeping world

As a blanket of fog

That cuddles and drifts

Slowly opens eye and lifts

Into the oncoming twilight

A stirring of breeze

Sways the trees

And ruffles the soft grasses

Stirs the perch

Of slumbering birds

Tucked deep beneath their wing

A preen of their feathers

They stand and bat lashes

A lift of wing and there’s flight

Gliding the cool air of morning

With others they are joining

As they gracefully etch

In black Silhouette

On the canvas of a new day sky