Light of morning softly caresses mountain peaks,
Snowy summits, mauve colored sky streaks.
Majesty and grandeur loom to the West,
Soul comes alive, calls forth the best.
Lost in the hustle of another work day,
Just obviously on our way.
Can’t see the beauty before our eyes,
Creates incongruence, never slow to ponder why?
One more moment, another breathe,
Stop and engage or just daily death?
Soft sky offers to give,
Invitation to live.
About the Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.
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