Should the summer sun break the night

and rise silently in the eastern sky;

bringing hues of reds and golds,

peeking through the trees and folds

of leaves,

then I shall be there

in the morning,

when the birds cry

their morning-warning.

And sitting on the deck

in the New Light

I shall watch the summer sun

break my night.

Hope of day begins.

 

anthony forrest