Soft mist clings lovingly to the tree
as the morning dew leaves droplets
sparkling across the tips of the grass.
Darkness still reigns as the moon
drops her head slowly toward her
daytime pillow. And any second now
I know the sun will reach her fingers
up across the roof tops. The morning
is still, I can hear no birds, I can
hear no Tom cats calling to his
lover. Just darkness, interrupted
by the casual morning worker,
carry along his wake up juice. The soft
mist dances now, circling its prey.
blossomsworld 