Last night the sun set,  

but today there is morning glory.   

 

Shaded by rippling laurel leaves  

thrushes sing in their ancient tongue.  

Each note bright and clear, 

a symphony for all with ears.  

 

Irises sprout purple and proud. 

A magpie glides by, 

weightless as a cloud. 

 

Rain-battered roses bloom 

presenting their petals, 

proof of perseverance 

to the wide world, a boon. 

 

Life is meant for living 

and Nature is forgiving.  

One day she’ll claim you too 

embrace you, birth you again, anew. 

 

When all I am is moss and bone 

I will not be alone. 

 

For I sing in the chorus of living beings 

I am tree bark and earthworm and tempest breeze. 

 

On those nights 

when bleak blots out the stars 

and I am forced to sit with Strife 

I must recall, 

that heavy though it may fall, 

rain is but a chapter in the greatest stories 

and tomorrow there will be morning glories.