Song of Gratitude

Spring birds sing to the waking dawn,

The chorus of a merry aria.

How lovely is their serenaded sun,

A reminder of earthly grace.

Quiet in the bleak hours past nightfall,

One can ponder such hidden joy.

Cradled by the tender moments of first light,

I yearn to find my songbird tune.

Epics of golden-clasped glories,

Menageries of cherished memories,

And a canvas of prophecies dance;

Hope is the promise they harmony.

In love’s fervor do I hear an orchestra,

The flame of rejoicing melody.

Blessed becomes my sunrise;

A rhythmic masterpiece.