Morning is red on the horizon
As if God has not yet
Opened the other tubes
Holding the colors of dawn
Nor yet filled out his palette.
It is as if He pauses
Peers at paints and brushes.
Even now and ponders:
"What sort of day
Shall I create today?"
Soon and very soon
He will reach of glorious yellows
Whites beyond my vision
Oranges and dozens of shades
Of blues, reds and royal purples.
Then He will look with satisfaction
At the day He has made
And I will know then
That is is, was and will be...
Good.
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