Enjoyed while last clippings of lawn clung to my feet
In overcast so solid from sky to ground
That a mist enveloped everything, swallowing sound.
First blush of color on the maple, cabin's corner
A bit as I imagine the thumb of Jack Horner,
Cheeks of young maidens fawning before knights,
And the breast of a Kingfisher winging in flight.
It is time to look close and appreciate the dew
When the glorious horizon is hidden from view
As it's best to remember the woodshed is full
When sunshine is naught and close feels the snow