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Morning

by George Hoerner

sun warms the air
and light frost turns
into wisps of mist

as the flight of light
is dispersed
it shreds the fog

colors of morning are muted
and birds sing on the wing
searching for natures feast

while squirrels chatter
and chase each other
through budded branches
of spring

01/12/2005

Posted on 11/13/2008
Copyright © 2025 George Hoerner

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 11/13/08 at 05:48 AM

I wish I could do nature stuff. People like you do it so well.

Posted by Glenn Currier on 07/16/09 at 01:22 PM

I love the way you soak up spring and turn yourself into another creature - but one who can observe and give voice to the unfolding delight of this season.

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