Thursday Poem - At Dawn

at dawn, a frail moon waning in the high

still light of morning touches this early

summer day, one that will never come again

in its sweetness and its verdant spice,

and slow walkers in the early fog, we go paw
and paw through fragrant summer yieldings
of swaying clover and rhyming crickets,
humming bees and dancing leaves

around us, unseen but deeply felt and
loved, the world is breathing in and out,
 all our voices rising and falling as one

into seamless light and tune and time.

kerrdelune