From the recording Water on Tin

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The Beauty of the Day
The darkness burns away
into the beauty of the day
Silver shrouded clouds with
subtle roses dipped in gray
The shadows of the morning
Advance across the sphere
With the rhythm of a silent drum
They fade and reappear

We were born with eyes
to see this wondrous sky
Ears to hold the warbler’s songs
and hear the raptor’s cry
If I were born a poet
Given just one thing to say
Then I would tell the story of
The beauty of the day

The gracious sun she arches
With her painter’s brush behind
Splashing light on dreary towns
And taunting them to shine
She paints the hills and Van Gogh fields
And oceans with her light
Then tints the dusk with haughty hues
Before the dreamers’ night