In the firstlight, a lone honeybee stumbles
across the dew-laden grass
like a drunken husband returning home far too late.
A breeze with glass sharpened edges naughtily scoots
beneath the evergreens’ weighted skirts, nipping the juicy places
Where musty apple scents are offered like an eager lover.
Gilded leaves whisper, gossiping like neon raindrops as they fall, and
Chipping wrens flick-tail from branch to twig like gray popcorn,
never seeing the green-eyed cat in the musty dimness below.
Like a diver on the high board, trembling … breathless…
The moment is poised…
And finally, decisively, one strong golden shaft of sunlight pries its way between the
Unshaven legs of the fir trees, and another morning is broken.