The Dew Ball
Early in the morning I rise and make a cup of tea,
The windows are covered with dew, nothing I can see.
I step onto my deck to let my dog have a run outside,
There’s a gallery of art exhibits awaiting for me to imbibe.
Spiderwebs painted with dew dressed in shimmering glass,
Droplets glisten on petals, at this moment beauty is on mass.
Water hangs tenuously from the tips of cacti standing tall,
Harmony of colour serenades my soul, it’s my morning dew ball,
Within a short time my ball starts to disappear from sight,
The sun rises higher and the yard slowly loses it’s delight.
Like Cinderella and her glass slipper, only a few traces remain,
I close my door, retreat inside, if lucky tomorrow I’ll see the same.
September 10, 2011
For Paula Swanson’s Contest
“How Due You Dew”
Won 5th Place