in the true light of the morning
a day begins
and the mist creeps in.
The light of the stars has fallen
and the grass rises up with the dew.
In the birdsong and frogs chorus
the night beckons
and the moon gleams.
An answer is always round the corner,
and true meetings are here,
fields and horses,
bush and gully
clouds and wind
winners all.
Daybreak
comes
around
again.