Muse: The Rising Sun

When mornings come, it blankets the Earth with her mist
Then the bees must search for nectar as the flowers wait, 
The green and yellow hoppers stay in the sun, patient 
Eating the full of the land; munching at the wheat
Unconcerned, if the farmer will have enough to harvest
Then the warmth of life will slowly, steadily come, at some point, 
Waking the man who wandered and lived in grass tents
Who then happily witnessed what he saw coming forth, 

He pointed to the East, where a shimmer of gold rose in haste
Drawing the strenght of the humble day with all her might
Clouds glittered across the horizon, with fine firmaments
Sometimes, the cloud bellies glow a mild and light scarlet
But the sun will rise, it one day will shine joyful in the East!