Must one convince the self that the world is full of wonders?
Or is it just so?
The dawn sky delivers awe to a man, but why?
Why make a fuss about gray on pink on orange on white on blue?
And Jackson Pollack splashes of higher clouds beyond that.
Was any of it better without the sound of an airplane, a car going by or a jackhammer?
No bird ever cared.
And the sounds of these birds is not in the same annoying class.
The whistles, chirps and screeches are agreeable music.
No argument.
A clicking grasshopper sounds unusual.
It, snails and other critters erasing foliage on a lethargic long-term schedule.
And the sun demanding more attention as it pushes through the horizon’s cloud bank.
Spikes and spears of light. Long lashes.
And lashes and eyes to meet them.
To peer into a day given.
