Dew

Strathbogie sunrise
I accept the dew of early morn as through golden hour I walk
the brittle sun of dawn is come
to break on every dewy stem and stalk
an ascending wave it pushes away nights waning mantle of grey
seeking out each shaded hollow where the sprites of night still play

as my feet dampen and my spirits rise with every step I take
i feel the joy inside of me stir peacefully to fully awake
the first touch of warmth upon my skin bodes well for another day
i turn my face to far horizon where sun breaks cover with glorious rays

vivid pinks and yellows dress the sky in resplendent heavenly garb
the first full shafts of light to pierce the dew delight with rainbowed prisms and shards
they brush the earth with tantalising grace promise of the day to come
I consider that prospect as I return to the place where I came from

my home upon the hill does beckon lit in tones of gold
breakfast awaits and children’s smiles call me back to the fold
as I return in new light I reflect on mornings journey through rising mist
toward embracing tasks ahead, now worry off my list
as mornings clarity prepares me for the next path
I am to tread
this moment of pure atmosphere also readies me
I am dewly led

Poetry days #12.

Golden

Ah, the light of the golden hour
the yellow wash of dawn’s breaking sun
such pleasure in the early morn
omen for a another day of wonder
beautifully begun