There is Still Time

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

But there is still a sunrise this morning,
red for rain.
We can still count the stars in Orion
and see the night sky.
There is still a dog at the end of the bed.
He is a guardian of our souls.
There is time to reach beyond smallness
that resides in our hearts.

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Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

2 responses to “There is Still Time

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