Singing a New Morn: a poem By John McKinley Pride Jr
Feathers light and dark, meshed together like night and day.
Wings flutter and splash landing in a quiet lucidity upon golden ripples of liquidized glitter; like stars spreading in the sky on a cold crisp morn.
The sun peeks over the hills welcoming warm delight to push the dark away and welcome a beautiful day.
The trees sway back and forth like a giant church choir; with a slow breeze whistling through each branch that sings the song of a new day.
By John McKinley Pride Jr.