Morning Dew

Have you ever stood there?

In the morning dew

watching the rays of gentle gold

 creep their way along the onyx sky.

Listening to the murmur of the leaves 

whispering to one another as the branches of the willow

 glide by one another silently.

Lungs open to the untouched air

as you gaze at the reflection of the world 

rippling across the lagoon.

Ears confused by the harmonious dissonance 

of the waking birds greeting the rising sun.

Not  a word spoken,

not a muscle to move,

just laying there in the cool morning dew.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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