GoodMorning


Low slung sun

Briefly shaded by

Clouds casts golden

Gilt on the

Bushy tops of

Tall trees like

Shave cream on

My father’s brush

Lathered and waiting

To moisten low

Clouds that hang

Like a five

A.m. shadow while

Daisies yawn and

Stretch slowly opening

Like Chinese fans

This quiet morn

Here in Charlotte