Rooted in Lamentations 3:22-23 (KJV), this poem portrays God’s mercies as a daily dawn-renewal experienced through all five senses. In third-person universality, it invites anyone to hear the wind’s whisper, see the golden horizon, smell rain-soaked earth, taste grace-sweetened tea, and feel the sun’s warming touch—each sense revealing invisible compassion made tangible. Faith transforms ordinary morning moments into a “sensory psalm,” a resurrection of hope woven fresh at first light.

It is of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because his compassions fail not. They are new every morning: great is thy faithfulness.

Lamentations 3:22-23 (KJV)

In the hush before the world stirs,
one hears it first—a whisper of wind threading through leaves,
silk robes brushing ancient stone,
creation’s heart restarting with a soft thrum,
a rooster’s cry cracking night like warm bread.

Then sight unfurls: the horizon bleeds gold,
mercies rising like loaves from heaven’s oven,
pink and amber ribbons over dew-kissed fields,
shadows fleeing as light claims the throne—
by faith, the invisible becomes visible,
promises painted in sunrise scripture.

Smell awakens next, earth’s incense ascending:
crisp petrichor from last night’s rain,
wild honeysuckle’s sweet breath,
coffee grounds blooming in a kitchen’s warm exhale—
compassion, aromatic and alive,
drifting through open windows like manna’s memory.

Taste follows, a sacrament on the tongue:
the first sip of tea, honeyed and hot,
bitter edge softened by grace’s slow melt,
salt of yesterday’s tears evaporated,
leaving only forgiveness,
new as Eden’s untouched fruit.

Finally, touch—the gentle siege of mercy:
cool grass kissing bare feet,
sun’s first rays warming skin like a father’s hand,
a breeze caressing cheeks, erasing wrinkles of worry—
by faith, unseen arms enfolding,
tender as lamb’s wool, strong as dawn’s resolve.

Can anyone sense it? By faith, see it—
God’s mercies, woven fresh in every sense,
a daily resurrection,
eternal in the fleeting now.