Written and spoken by Myrna Moore
Clouds mass
Birds swoop
Catching the last of
the last seeds from
the tree
People group
Some stare
Wondering what could be
Could be different
From now?
They did not see
They did not hear
The bark of the
Tree
Creak
The sun long gone
Clouds mass
Light gone hides what is
Hidden
When the morning comes
Will it be different?
Change will come
And bring change
Only we might not
See it – if we’re not ready.
When the morning comes.