The birds sing--reach my senses
as a bouquet of yellow freesia and pink sweet peas.
I sit up in bed, look out the window and a bright light is beaming at me; it is the moon. I sit up taller and it's as though the moon is merely feet away from the trees below and speaks to me--whispers, here I am.
The hush of the morning enveloped in birdsong, the moon, and the faint breeze tickles my spirit--we breathe as one golden ray of light.