A sweet softness greeted this early morn,
As a shroud of gray, the forest did adorn.
Absent yet still from amidst the chill,
were the songbirds melodious twill.
Oh what beauty this new day did hold,
For the southerlies last night did blow,
Driving north, if but for a day, the winters cold,
and giving unto us this soft morn of gray to behold.
Old gray squirrels chattered,
as from branch to limb they would dance.
And far below, a gathering of crows awaits chance.
What more can one say, of the serenity this day,
How can this feeling be best described?
When so much peace one feels inside.
For I know not a better way in which to abide.
So sit with me upon this damp and moist deck,
And join me in this silent tune, that nature this morn did croon.
For I can think of no better way to start the day,
Than sitting here with you,
enveloped in this shroud of gray.
J. Allen Wilson © 2004