Through our open window, a distant rooster's crow shares the morning airspace
with the gobbles of our resident wild turkey.
Since the turkey made it through the hunting season unscathed,
Don has given him a name, Jefferson, after that other famous Tom.
The week has been beautiful, the mornings cool,
and the hot afternoons mitigated by gentle breezes.
At day's end, the sun slips down behind the trees
and spring peepers sing from the pond.
High above them in the western sky,
Venus competes for attention with the smallest sliver of the new moon.
We drift to sleep to the sound of the of whip-poor-wills.
...where morning dawns and evening fades,
You call forth songs of joy.
Psalm 65:8
Linking with Skywatch Friday
