After weeks of grey skies,

Mornings hanging heavy in mist,
Afternoon sheets streaking down
Upon mid-July expectations,
Of sun and warmth and summer,
Dampened by the constant wetness,
The great green land awakens,
To the color blue overlooking
This earth in beatific episcopacy,
With quiet grace only interrupted
By birdsong among the evergreens,
Jays chattering in nearby Hemlocks,
Song Sparrows lifting up their Lauds,
Among sun-dappled Alder branches,
Unseen except by echoes of melody,
This morning’s the first and only
Morning of day’s birth under divinity’s
Blessing and comforting canopy of blue. 
~By David Robinson, 7.18.11