Seeking the Morning Dew

Feeling the purity of life today
how lovely and innocent it all is
when flitting birds and butterflies
are aflight in the dewy down of the soul
Smelling the sweetness of baking vanilla,
feeling the arousal of every afternoon sun,
hearing the crunch of the days passed,
how they burble like a river falling
through the ethereal space of time
and how every manufactured woodchips
is a separate fingerprint of old souls
of trees,

and you are a cup of coffee
and I am the ink on the page;
together we are one inspired moment,
silent in the morning breeze
a soft chrysanthemum growing
bright and ruby
in the waking sun.

We will stain the day
with the physicality of our souls
together diming,
quartering,
and nickeling
the path of each beholding iris.