A Morning Poem by Rich Harney

A morning dropped by slow—
To say hello, primp herself…
Adjacent afternoon.

Observing petals - needed dew
Obligingly… a rain drop
Or two.

Then brushed a shadow
With an ample blonde,
Knows he likes the meadow lane
With the yellow on!

Then the music— perfectly
An unsuspecting tune—
Sparrows croon the listening leaves
Here comes! the after swoon.

Almost ready, hills are next…
Oh! ….What to do?
Shall it be magenta first,
Then a golden hue?

Now she's done, the robin's on,
The upstairs blue is bold.
Hope he likes the gleaming host
Time, she's getting old!