An overcast dims the morning light, the top of 6th Lake Mountain obscured by cloud.

The birds call out, in warning or in joyful greeting, who can say,

As from the western reaches of the lake, a distant loon wails its plaintive call over the gray waters,

And a crow caws his insult in answer.

A melange of morning sounds echoes from beyond the narrow image of the quiet-facing cove,

In harmonic chorus with the woodshed’s wind chime telling daybreak breeze’s tale.

A day, albeit gray, in paradise inspires thoughts of natural life,

And things so dissonant beyond the peaceful morning world within my ken.

It seems the birds and beasts in concert coexist in nature’s balance,

While “man’s inhumanity to man” continues past the bounds of all reason,

And kill, without a thought, the children of tomorrow over the grievances of yesterday.

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