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Dawn's Enchanted Meadow
You say you caught a miserable cold, child,
And mother won’t let you play?
“When dawn drifts into enchanted meadows”
Is just the tale for you today!
The silent meadow comes alive at dawn
With the songs of a hundred birds.
It’s a well-orchestrated symphony
Of avian singers without words,
Not the discordant chatter of the morning news -
A human newscaster’s litany.
Can a hundred different bird’s sound peaceful
When they sing in harmony?
The verdant meadow comes alive at dawn
With two hundred butterflies.
These guys start out as homely caterpillars.
Each one, latent beauty, belies.
Two hundred winged enchantresses
In all their colorful flair -
Would we notice how gorgeous they are
Without the ugly to compare?
The flowery meadow comes alive at dawn
With the buzz of a thousand bees.
They pollinate the lovely flowers to make
Tomorrow’s wild strawberRIES.
These fellows carry scimitars, these
Confectioners on the wing.
Could we appreciate life’s sweet taste of honey
Without its painful sting?
The dappled meadow comes alive at dawn
With the work of a million bugs.
Every one of them has a purpose,
Even the lowly slugs.
Ants are industrious ecosystem engineers.
Worms aerate soil to make plants, green.
Would the king who sits atop the food chain eat
Without the labor of the unseen?
The enchanted meadow comes alive at dawn,
Bringing happiness and hope.
I hate to imagine what those without
Would do with enough rope.
Here's a riddle, grandchild, your life so new,
All about a world you have just come to.
Would we ever see creation’s light
Without the darkness of the night?
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Copyright ©
David Crandall
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