Early Morning
EARLY MORNING
Early morning, I gaze at you
Asleep - outside the window
The rising sun warms the grass-frost,
Turns it to mist and fog,
Her golden glow,
swelling, swirling,
then dissipating
floating fingers of fog,
wrapping themselves around
the folds of fresh earth.
Waking grass breathes
good morning to pilgrims
weaving their way
through country lanes, strolling
through the white dales of heaven.
You stir and fold me in your arms.
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