The morning mist washes over the Cedars.<\/p>\n
Gross Beaks and Sparrows still doze in the trees.<\/p>\n
An opaque curtain of gray clouds<\/p>\n
shrouds the mighty mountain tops.<\/p>\n
It is the birth of a new day<\/p>\n
not yet licked clean by wind, sun, or rain.<\/p>\n
Innocence and evil also lie still.<\/p>\n
History with its many secrets,<\/p>\n
a product of man’s fickle will,<\/p>\n
waits deep in the ancient forest.<\/p>\n
It is the birth of a new day.<\/p>\n
Patricia A. Hare<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The morning mist washes over the Cedars. Gross Beaks and Sparrows still doze in the trees. An opaque curtain of gray clouds shrouds the mighty mountain tops. It is the birth of a new day not yet licked clean by … Continue reading