Oh, Deer; Yosemite
Sunrise is a most magic time,
When the mist rises off the meadow,
Revealing a new-washed world,
Where a young doe pauses at breakfast
To give a welcoming glance to the sun.
The trees and grasses, with new sheen,
Stand calm and still, saying,
“Look at us in our new life.
Does your soul stand so firm,
Or shine so bright?”
Now the small critters show themselves:
The bustling ground squirrel
Chatters to the bluejay,
Who mischievously teases awake
Grandpa Marmot, catching the first sun
On his polished granite easy chair.
Then the golden sun
Chases the chill from under the forest,
And we rejoicingly praise God
For a new day
In a new world.