Was never a Morning as silent,
Sheathing birds' songs for later.
Perhaps.
When Thursday's winds will loft them.
Unknown destinations.
While Sol shines questions of no warbled greetings,
From the chorus.
Where the sparrow, wren, dove?
Worried.
No storm approaches, yet silence was
Not forecast.
Morning has no wings today.
elysabeth faslund
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/morning-silence/
