"Sunrise" - August 1992, Argyle, Texas

As that summer progressed my writings grew more hopeful - reflective of the joy that was seeping into my soul.  I have always loved the early morning... it's stillness and solitude often speak to me loudly.

Sunrise By Angela Wilcox, 1992

The morning is misty and quiet,
     Nature's music sings a song all it's own;
The birds are beginning to awaken,
     Singing and talking as the day begins to dawn.

I sit back, my feet up, just listening,
     For what things the earth might tell to me;
Awaiting as the dusk moves out darkness,
     To see with the sun what I'll see.

The clouds lying low block the sun's ascent,
     So sunlight comes slowly to my world;
The moon in it's splendor shines brightly,
     Saying "Goodnight" and leaving again.

The trees are so still, almost restless,
     As if waiting for the new day to begin;
When they'll dance with the wind on their branches,
     And open their leaves to their friends.

Again my eyes search out over the horizon,
     It's the sunrise I came out to see;
And I realize how much like my own life,
     Sunrises and sunsets can be.

Sometimes the sky is open and cloudless,
     Nothing interferes with the dawn of new light;
The day seems bright, beautiful, exciting,
     The sun has risen and all will be right.

Some mornings aren't filled with much sunshine,
     Clouds block the beauty and light.
The day seems more dull, dark and grey,
     And I must wait to catch the sun's first sight.

Each day carries within it's own beauty,
     For life does not wait for the sun;
It goes on whether sunny or cloudy,
     It does not delay, hide away, or run.