The morning dawn fresh
and crisp,
Restless souls stir in
their sleeps
To the call of nature’s
clock
Of fluttering wings and
rustling leaves.
I awake and open the
shutter
To the hearty welcome
hiding
Of a gust of cold clean
air,
Unspoiled by man’s
dirty labor.
My sense rejuvenates;
like dews
On blades of grasses
each night,
Apollo’s cascade hasn’t
spread still
To exercise the grass
of their crown.
An instant, I get off
my bed
And decided to take a
walk
In Mother Nature’s best
hour
To feel and immerse in
her love.
The cold doesn’t bother
the shiver
Nor does the breeze my
single shirt,
For natures anesthetic
cleanse
Not the mind but the
soul.
Hark, Apollo’s chariot
comes
Warm awakens the dozing
grasses,
As me to daily chore bound
Again into the world’s
abyss
Of the living and the
dead.
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