In the forest the morning sun comes slowly
Softly kissing the very tops of the tallest trees
Then ever so languidly drips down branch by branch
Brushing each with and warmth.
The morning sun may find a window in the pines
Through which a gentle stream of sun-rays pass
To warm a patch of earth or a night cooled body
Gently creating another day of beauty and life.
— Peg Pazucha