The world awakens to the soft tinges of morning
Vapor light poured through the edge of the hills
Wandering over the lake. The leaves gently fall
From the trees with the rhythm and cadence
Of the birds songs echoing all around. Calls of jay, cardinal, and the favorite mourning
Cry heard in chorus then breaks in the disturbed 
Great heron as nuts begin their hard and crashing
Decent a flock has come in and a splash is heard
Capturing sight of the creator is elusive always changing
On the ever flowing tide of mornings song