Dark morning mist.

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.