poetry & things

Early morning

In the sweet of early morning

and only for a few precious moments

I thought of nothing at all

I stared blank at the four walls

in a state between awake and dreaming

and only until the startle of the first bird singing,

the wind playing in the wild branches.

I saw the sun clinging to roofs and trees

light traipsing through the garden lilies

I heard the chirp and groan of frogs

newly green, all the unfurling fronds

and from the broad leaves, the dew

fell sparkling in rivulets

and drank the carpet moss

softly green and splendorous.

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