Morning is come

Morning is come
And soon will pass away
Warmed with Sunshine
--Bright this day

Birds sing Spring
Coming...
Coming...

Water plays along
Ripples its song
On its way

Flowing --  joining --  growing --

The breeze of new fresh air
Sways the budding branches
Of the tree over there

                                ...And there

-- Everywhere --


quiet



                                   listen


You may hear the green grass growing
Upon the hills of paradise

~~linda lee gardner-masters


(a re:Shaping from Linda's Journal)
[p. 79, LOVEJOY
Dawn Vision Press, 1986]