Sunday Morning
ever-changing treasure by the hour:
marmalade, saffron, lemon, chartreuse.
A goldfinch flickers, loiters at the feeder,
wings streaked with sun.
Buttercups open to dawn's caress,
tickle of birdsong.
This morning light is April's blessing,
a blaze of possibilities all before breakfast.
Aureoles of sunlight dance in waking rooms,
cat sprawls, lounges in golden pools.
A yellow cardigan drapes a chair,
Van Gogh's field of sunflowers,
the colour of
burgeoning daydreams.
All at once everywhere is aglow,
a profusion of buttered brightness.
Day is warming, sweet,
ripe with joy.
Every moment
a honeycomb of happiness,
a discovery of precious gold.
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