Sweet country mornings
I don’t know how to compare
to express how beautiful
they really and truly are;
some come wearing purple
others are golden and lime,
some come so quietly
you don’t see them arrive,
others come screaming with sun,
and those are the ones I like.

Sometimes half the sky
is day and the other
has darkness and stars
like an actual night;
a wind like a sigh
of the night going away
leaves a scarf around its neck –
the remains of the darkness
that on the distant horizon
already is fraying apart.

The trees have appeared
in the morning mist
and the grasses shivering
seem to be tinkling with joy;
the tiny dew drops
that the night has wept away,
each star that has departed
left a flower in its place
and the sun is peeking out
full of wonder and delight.