IT WAS a MORNING MUCH LIKE THIS

It was a morning much like this,
cool, calm, the sky a Prussian blue~
water-colored sea detained infinite clouds.
Then, they seemed to swish on by~
we could juump on them if we tried.
Instead, we snoozed on hill-sides,
dreamed as children wanted to do,
sang saintly hymns and grew,
felt the spirit in our breast,
had no fear of the beyond.
Breathless mornings, I evoke . . .
believers are made on mornings like this.