RIVERS: Morning Dew

Morning Dew. 

Mornings hold something of the stardust
that is infused into our atmosphere
every time the moon rises and
the night covers the world with a layer of subtle darkness.

When the first rays of sunshine
softly kiss the tops of the grass halms
they wake their weeping
and what remains of the night's subtle glow becomes visible to the bare eye.
Which idea living would not feel called to tremble
and invited to give way to a silent tear itself?

Transcending beauty, becoming visible 
in the reflection of one single drop of morning dew,
holding the whole universe
with an aspiration to nurture the soil we call home.

Silence, breath. 
Like the hymn of the wind,
or the flaps of a bird's ambition to touch the sky.
How blessed I am to wake up every morning
next to, into, through
what calls me life itself.