A Golden Morrow

Blissful dragonflies aflutter as unweighing a place so light as solace,
Free as a good-will spirit;
Whilst colorful wings has stood harmonic,
After raining a sincere call of beaconing;

Dancing fireflies afloat in graceful lights,
A lighted candle shan't even compare to them;
That would illuminate a special place in the dark night,
They will not be put out like a dying candle;

The whispering wind sings in the day's gleeful ritual,
A bid of a raindrop or three, it stayed untouched;
The shy sun is illustrious as it smiles brightfully,
In the path of flowers, in the fields splash;

The ginkgo biloba speaks of glittering leaves,
Far too beautiful for it to wilt;
Though it could, it is strong undyingly,
A life of it, if unmoved, won't ever tilt;

A golden sunflower welcomes the rays of the lustering sun,
A statue of a work of art it is;
Even if it never danced but by just a blowing wind of God,
That spoke to it as it whistles;

The fiery sun sleeps in the solemn night,
But talks to it after the break of falling dawn;
The dusky night creeps in the morning plight,
The little crickets listen as they spawn.