“Morning, in My Garden”
My Morn, aglow with rosy blush-ablaze,
begins as dainty bride or powdered fey.
She blows a fairy dewdrop storm; a maze
that soars o’er blissful, swaying flower’s play.
Her sparkling light sends dawn to kiss the face
of groom who grows beneath the shadows low.
He’ll bloom a brilliant hue; a purple trace
as grace will lift her veil where he will grow.
Oh, moon, you’ve danced away beyond the night
as early beams entrance the wedding guests;
they turn their heads to greet the waltzing light
that warms the periwinkle’s silken vest.
Triumphant march of morn, you’ve brought this day;
a diadem of beauty breaks our way!