Finger painted morning

Birds sing their simple morning songs
Peepers shrug off the chilled dawn
Joining the chorus with their songs
Of bog bound love and loneliness.
In the trees squirrels are just awake
And rubbing a tiny paw on sleepy eyes.
A weary ol' mama possum walks along,weary
Looking for breakfast, digging through
Thick leavings from Autumn and Winter.
Serving as omnibus for six tiny youngin's
Clingin' to her back, holdin' on tight
Tooth and jaw clamped to mama
Like rat ugly hair clips.
Yet above all the hustle, the frenzy
The bustle, the busy, frenetic
The cheeping, the peeping, tweet tweeting
And croaking, harumphing, coo cooing
Conk honking, qua-quacking, whee wheeting
Of morn...
Above all the caught up-ness, the mating
The eating, the cleaning, the seeking
The business of dawn
God is slowly painting the horizon
Once more with the finger paints of creation