Dawn
By Glesni Moeller

Dark clouds stroke the silvery moon
It’s almost morn, dawn will come soon.
The night, with all its darkness, gone
The nightmare hours will soon be done.

A rustle here, a birdsong there
The dawn chorus soon fills the air.
The break of day, a bewitching time
The burning sun, it starts to climb.

A sweetness fills the air around
The stillness eased with sonorous sound.
The first blush of the bright blue sky
The whispered breeze emits a sigh.

The birth of day and all it entails
From glimmering sea through hills and vales
The rose fingered dawn beckons with grace
And holds us in its sweet embrace