Honeyed Dew
Like honey from a spoon
warmed in a cup of tea
the mist suspends itself
from the ripe red buds of maple and grape.
In fascination the light shatters
prisms on the chandelier of life.
Worlds of I and eye reflect outward.
Tulips sip and daffodils dance
in beaded gowns of dew.
Wind sweeps mana to the beaks of birds.
Rivulets roll down window panes
cleansing the visage of man’s abode.
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