Heavy Dew The heavy dew stills the air Quiet meadows hold their breath Trees weep from burden boughs Trodden grass shows dewy steps The oak a fan of autumn lace Quivering on the slightest breeze A lady but without a flush To coyly hide and slowly tease Soften sounds await the sun To rid the dew then echo’s form Now as the day starts in grace Still hidden is the early worm Comfort to the waking eyes That nature stirs at its own pace Not for it the rush hour crush Just the Oak, fan and lace Soaked cobwebs cling with strength Valueless the dewdrops trace Stunning to perceptive eyes But soon the sun will deface Absorbent Dawn, senses primed Motionless the stance of awe Loneliness in natures crowd No tick of time or histories door Not bear the thought this glory fade And morning mists turn to dreams Blue still skies the royal robe Sun the orb heavenly beams Dave Hazel 12 November 2006
Posted on: Fri, 12 Dec 2014 18:06:26 +0000
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