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Morning Simplicity

Quiet leaves rustle,

the old cat happens by slowly,

as the couple admires their flowerbed

through carefully savored sips of coffee –

the morning sun speaks tenderly

through the nearby wood.

Everything formed simply,

peace the common denominator. 

The bird chirps, calling. 

Yes, we hear you.

And in the background,

the piano tickles my eardrums pleasantly,

with Norah’s voice

filling in cracks of this poet’s aged edifice.

What a great morning.

~ Bill Breneman ~

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