Painted Morning

What rises there in eastern sky

horizon hides below
With picture trace of sunrise be

the dispelled evening glow

Whose billowing clouds doth rise above
as caldron in the sky

while brushing feathered firebrands

the shadow earth dew line

That sprinkled o're the honking geese

the breeze there causing twists

and curls positions upward bound

the cumulus abyss

Thus opens here the pending day

not one for certain be

like forest fire lighting path

the mystery for thee

That crystal ball now rising there

thus bright for all to gaze

Creator's power love and grace

His sovereign will life's maze

While curling position levitates
chromatic billowed veils

the circulating conjugates

conglomerate vapor trails

The wispy path without a choice

for none can alter course

whose sheathing beams and streaming paths

with echo hues of noise

The night quilt maker doth now rotate

and revolution build
preparing yet another day

of different fate to yield

Thou well heat sphere and heaping ball

reminds onlooker's brain

that He who guides the painted morn

doth guide me by His reigns