dawn breaking

we'll name the morning only if it fits
our sense of what a morning ought to be
the kind of light that we delight to see
the morning songsters' medley of their hits
we want a morning made of little bits
of all our pasts but will not pay the fee
since memory and beauty should be free
and that is what each conscious mind admits
we do not want a gaudy tropic show
the steady bluing of the cloudless sky
the shadows receding back into the walls
the eastern air filling with its great glow
we want those things and that is not a lie
we want the things our infant mind recalls