A golden stroke of sunlight
In the calm chill of the morning
The kiss of a coffee cup
With the warmth of a thousand bitter
Drops of heaven…
A single songbird perched nearby,
Chirping till its heart content
Waking in the sleep of a hundred.
I sit here lost in thought
While I gaze into the open, purple sky
As the twilight soon will give way
To a blazing orange
And the trees, in fall
Burning crimson red
Will sway to the beat
Of the whispering wind.