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The Days They Fly

Hark! The sun it rises
But the mourning dove cries
As morning it dies
Lo, high sun's rise

Hearken! Noontide arrives
But soon the meadowlark sings
And takes to its wings
West, as evening bell rings

Hark! The night the moon illumines
Now hear raven's crow
Those that tarry below
Now midnight you know

Hearken! Morning approaches
Heron's white wings flows
As the seed of dawn grows
No longer caught in dark throes

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Pamela Lutwyche said on 13 September 2020:
My how time does fly. It goes so fast, nothing lasts forever


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