Morning breaks into the eastern sky
and I, old man, have not ceased to wonder why
I still find fascination in the sun rise.
The world’s agenda seldom mars the pleasure
offered each day, though I cannot measure
one against the other — they’re all treasures.
At times I’ve missed the rendezvous with dawn.
Though mostly it’s together we belong
there are intrusions; and when, it feels quite wrong.
The daily news that lies upon our sidewalk
I ignore, as well as television’s talk.
Later I’ll absorb them — but first I balk.
Heaven first, as I begin my mornings
then I’ll deal with all the daily warnings.
May they find me ready and not wanting.