sun and early birds

Stumbled upon, there is justice at day's end,

life is a long march towards truth;

We waver each moment along the way

testing winds and tasting breezes.

Like the sweetness at the season's end

when the blessings of sun and time have ripened

the natural world, and we can see the goodness

of patience and care; we must step towards the eternal

sunrise, the glow on the next horizon.

Coming day blends away darkness we must pass

to stagger, sometimes blind, and forward

unto a truth distilled by drops;

they fall like verging tears

or faithful dew gathered before first light

and the call of mourning doves.

We are the slithers in the wet grass

when sun and early birds are near

rising to the call of an unerring voice

we fall and yet we know

there is sadness in the moments we spend

and want in happiness we cannot keep.

Bound to the circles of life, unbroken until they end;

we flourish as spirit and world contrive us to be:

a breath, an insinuation, a dot of day, and at last...

an echo..