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Daybreak tumbles down my back stairs
With morning light, bereft of rain
With which to soak my ragged hair
And make me ache all over again.

This is a fine way to spend an hour
Watching a morning hour drift by
Filling my lungs with potential power
From a freshened and rose-colored sky.

A mockingbird sweetens the air inside
With a trill of mastery of the domain
Cat lurks nearby, the appearance of pride
Considering its passions and reign.

It is a wonder that Adam did not eat more
Contemplating the stillness of his heart
Where he is cannot be where he was before
And what price is too high to make true Art?