A merry robin trills among the apple blossoms,
Cheerily greeting the sun.
Mist rises off the sleepy fields,
Full and satisfied from its night's drink,
As the regal cat sits before the red door and waits,
Calling for human company to ruffle his shining fur.
The black rail, slick with dew,
Houses tiny spiders on their sparkling webs,
And the maple tree stands,
Basking its furling leaves in the rays of gold from the shy blue sky.
It is morning.