Dew in the Morning - (Resurrection) - Poem by Raymond A. Foss

Dew in the morning
Burst my slumber, stupor, coma
Caught me from numbness,
Unseeing eyes
Dulled senses

Forced sight, perception
Discernment,
Gasp,
wonderment
Out my door
Vivid, to be seen,
Felt, understood

a silence, a stillness,
not in the scene; but in me
woke me more
than the sun had stirring my sleep

7 am
My world awakes
There’s dew in the morning.

Rush of rich, deep color
Eyes drink in the snapshots, slides,
Recurring refrain -
Dew in the morning

Allowing me to see
All of nature
Alive then, as they had been all along
Whispering a secret
Through my new sight

A carpet of moss
softened
By the morning mist,
God’s breath
Trapped on the needles, hairs

Small, private, spider webs
Before my feet
Caught pearls of dew,
fine tapestry
Outlining their maker’s artistry.

Every tip of the serrated
Wild strawberry leaves is gilded
With a morning’s tear.

New birch leaves
Are ever greener.
Their skin and veins
More animate

Crown of each green
Blueberry clutches,
Caresses,
Lovingly, gently
A single living dewdrop.

Panes of mica in the
Granite underfoot
Hold a special sheen.
Reflecting the warming light

My world is brighter,
Vivid,
And I am alive

When there is
Dew in the morning.

Written June 18, 2000
Edits started 2/7/04 15:12 - 15:18
Edits 2/10/04 17:45 – 18:15