I woke this morning at the sun up hour
To a mocking bird dancing on the windmill tower.
He sang and danced and danced and sang
‘Til the hills’ echoes shrilled and rang.
The sun inched off and spawned a breeze
That danced the leaves on the cotton and trees
And danced little ripples on the big stock tank
Where horses and cows and Mourning Doves drank
The rising sun’s slanting shine
Danced the blossoms on the morning-glory vine
That protected the porch’s sunny space
From the somber sun’s dancing, glaring face.
The dancing sun continued it’s rise
To it’s zenith in the cotton ball studded skies
The cotton balls danced in a dance unknown
Except to them and the wind alone.
The sun reached it’s zenith and started down
Toward the hilltop’s rocky crown
Dust devils danced in profusion across the fields
Of cotton and grain and uncertain yields.
The dancing rays of the feeble sun
Announced the day was nearly done
The Bull-bats dancing their dizzying dive,
Then the nocturnal world was coming alive.