Rising, A Poem

A thin layer of morning dew
coats the world in the early morning hours.
The sun rises,
and the dew transforms.
Curling, rising,
Finding its way back to source.

When I came outside early this morning, the morning dew was steaming off of every surface.  It was so beautiful.  I captured it in video, but cannot put the video up here.  I hope you can envision it, and share it with me anyway.   Love and light.

By Deborah E. Dayen

7 responses to “Rising, A Poem

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