I Remember Mornings

There's a bright rainbow arcing the hopeful Mother City sky causing much vocal excitement amongst the bird-life Or was that another morning. I don't remember. Another morning I don't remember. I remember mornings though. Good mornings and bad. Mornings so bad that you'd rather not morning, but morning you do, without any joy or any glad. Those times you forget - such a mood, often obscures the good. And invariably highlights the base and the crude. Rude. The despairing morning's food. And how it helps not - this endlessly on it brood. SP