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7:21 AM May 9, 1983
This poem was written in early May while walking through the peaceful streets in the predawn hours of a spring morning. Owego, New York


Morning Star


Beside the silent meadow

Filled with mist so soft and deep,

Between the chilled cold dark of night

He came to her that sleeps.


In peace He knelt beside her

And touched pale finger tips,

With silken grace as wood thrush calls

He kissed her dew-chilled lips.


And then the light grew brighter

Chasing shadows from the deep,

The rose blush hue of life did fill

His love, her morning cheeks.


And soon her eyes did open

And with them rose the sun,

Now hand in hand they walk the path

As new life just begun.


Now that peace is calling

And conflict gone to sleep,

Those of us who hear the call

May tread on silent feet.


The path that leads to sunrise

Where song birds sing so sweet,

Where heavens gentle breezes blow

And shining spirits meet.


So hurry now my loved one

The doorway is not far,

Past gentle meadows filled with mist

By Bright and Morning Star.



© Copyright February 10, 2004 by Michael Rice

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