Her silence is an offering
The morning sun’s a gift
Her morning meditation
I watch as my mind drifts
Our backyard is a symphony
The melody and pitch
Free from all temptation
Her presence does enrich
Her morning meditation
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Morning musings.
In the morning
before the sun
when the birds speak
and the city wakes,
after a good night
of drink,
the cure all — water
by my bedside,
I listen
to the sweet symphony
in my guts.
Words Of An Average White Male 