Photo by George Becker

I take to the wings of morning tattered though they be

for I know the colors of the sunrise will lead me Lord to Thee

A flight, a poem, my sonnet  to your greatness

as if I am again in my youth soaring to your kindness

Nothing but spheres and beams of your radiant light I see

all darkness and death must finally flee

I take the wings of the morning  there you will be

as though there was everanother sky or sea