The air exhales in measured hymn,
A dawn composed in echoes dim.
The sky unravels, note by note,
A melody in hushes wrote.

The morning kneels in amber light,
A prayer enwreathed in silent flight.
The clouds dissolve in gilded grace,
Yet leave their psalms in folded space.

What choir stirs within the hush?
What hands compose the dawn’s first blush?
For even light, though mute in sound,
Still sings in hues that swirl unbound.

And though the sun may rise unchained,
Its hymn remains, a vow sustained.
For silence speaks where words have none,
A canticle of waking sun.