Niall Espen

Morning Light

A still breath as no more than the cries of crickets,

wails of song birds,

shrieks of death,

and clatter of playful beast are heard.

The smell of dew,

and distant flower.

Birds above,

floating in familiar milky skies.

Everything still,

hushed in awe at golden horizon,

and silver wind.

Moon scorched sky.

Burning earth.

Gaggles of geese.

Golden rays,

silver-spun emerald blades.

A new day,

A new resolute.