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The World Awakens
March 3, 2008
Glistening beads of nature’s tears stick to the grass.
The lukewarm mist of early morning whets my thirst
As I look up to the sunrise.
Barely, just faintly I can see the distant oak tree,
Its silhouette a striking black against the impassioned rising sun
That fills the sky with pink.
The groggy bushes begin to rustle as a slow breeze picks up,
And a flock of birds awakens, cawing idly at the sun,
As if to greet its light.
The light, that is, which begins to fan out further,
Bringing life and color to the grass, trees, and birds
As the world awakens.
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