Morning in the Realm: A New Poem

Every morning I go downstairs to write, and I look out at the expansive sky, the land below the hill we live on, and over to the hill on the other side of the avenue.  There's an apartment building on that hill that often catches the first beams of sun rising over the larger hills to the east.  Sometimes I imagine the building as a castle, lit up by the dawning light.  Here's a photo in which you can get a glimpse of this place:

Why am I telling you this?  Well, the "castle" came into this small poem this week.  Really, there's nothing at all spectacular about the morning, the building, or the poem.  But I can tell you, when I manage to have mornings like this, I am truly grateful.

The sun rises
above the
eastern peaks

and lights up

the pale walls

of the castle 

on the hill.

A black bird

wings west and

suddenly drops

as it hastens,

then rights itself

and lands on top

of a spindly pine.

This is morning

in the realm,

the bluing sky 

smeared with clouds,

the regal trees still

in the calm 

morning light.

Another day begins,

and we, too,

begin again,

anew.