In the subtle hours just before dawn
When stars are fading, and the moon is gone,
I slip outside with a cup of fresh Joe.
Taking a sip as the black sky turns pink,
Listening to birds as they start to sing,
Staring across the field filled with corn rows.
Stalks rustle softly in the morning breeze
In perfect harmony with my oak trees.
The rooster's crow fades to the buzz of bees.
My cat jumps on my lap, and starts to purr...
For all of life's ills, this is the best cure:
Hearing a Hoosier morning symphony.
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