NEW MORN

The day yawns wide and stretches
With the rays of the bubbly sun
The eagles soar and watch
The wonder of a day begun

The birds twitter and chirp
And traverse terrace and tree
Distant bells and mooing cows
Blend into symphony

The swish of the lone sweeper
Sprinkles dust into dreary fog
Green hills shed cloudy blankets
And the valley looks agog

Sleep leaves in lazy reluctance
In a swaggerwith droopy eyes
Warm beds and crumpled blankets
Are bid hesitant hurried goodbyes

The smell of coffee and fresh cooking
Glide out to the empty street
Street urchins sleuth for food and rags
And talk of mothers, and cars and sweets

The sea roars it's welcome
And slaps the sullen rocks
The little girl picks conch shells
And the wind, round a stranger, walks

The city shines golden
Golden, the hills and the fens
Golden the sea and the stranger
And the tear on the tip of his pen