Breeze On The Hill Poem by Bernard F. Asuncion

A-n early morn has broken,
R-ising sun stops the rain;
N-ew dawn meets the beacon,
U-nderneath the wide lane.
L-et the fourth January
F-ill your life with mirth;
O-pen your eyes to the rays on the day of your birth.

S-ee either the white cloud
O-r the wide blue sky;
L-ight between the two
I-s burning bright up high.
M-ake the Wednesday warmth
A-ble to leave the Tuesday chill;
N-o more mist and haze, only the breeze on the hill.