The Morning Spreader

People wonder, people ask,

“How your ideas come so fast?

Do you read from dusk till dawn?”

No, my friend — that guess is wrong.

Ideas don’t bloom from printed page,

Nor hang like fruit at ripened age.

If you seek a thought that’s new,

There’s one clear thing you’ve got to do:

Rise before the world awakes,

While dew still sleeps on silent lakes.

When sunlight paints the waking sky,

The Morning Spreader flutters by.

He carries seeds of dreams untold,

But only gifts them to the bold.

So crack a window, take a stroll —

And let the cool breeze touch your soul.

If he finds you in the light,

He’ll share a gleam, a flight.

Ideas drift in the morning air —

But only find those who prepare.