Poems Born in the Morning

Before breakfast is warm

like babies poems are born,

in the wee hours

 of the morn.

Pouts and shouts

not about anything

just to hear

the sounds sing,

Sounds abound

swinging up.

Sounds are found

swinging  down.

Rhyming and timing,

right word unique.

A run of aces high ,

or four trump to seek.

But they come

in a drizzle,

and they come

in a streak.

Another poem to run,

to roam.

Finding its

 way home.

Rain outside, rain inside.

They whine,

they flip, they sign,

they skip.

Another poem to play,

to  play today,

or come again

another day.