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A New Day

Comes another dawn

on a late November day

when the bare trees

display their essences

against a changing background

perhaps not spectacular this time

not one for the photographers

but one that gladdens the heart

with its arrival.

And the big voice I mistook

for a cardinal

is, I believe, a compact little wren

in its brown suit

making its voice heard

as if to declare It’s a new day

and this is my little world.

And I think, why not

start the day with a song

staking a claim for my world?

Why not call out, Hello, you!

Hello, world! I am here.

Its a new day and I am here.

What will I do with this day?

Sing.  Fly.  Sing again.

And love this day.

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