Morning Raga

I watch at the top of Mountains where the Clouds tarry a while To form many different shapes Their shadows fall Upon slopes to hide The slipping snow as As if a bunch of dark caps I watch the mild sun Peeking through the Cracks of clouds at The valleys sleeping below It crawls across green Carpet of grass far and Wide with occasional glow I watch the flowers Dancing slowly in the Wind blowing from the Riverside and spreading essence As I wake up and stand At the window I hear The humming of birds as My mind falls into mystic trance