Photo Credit:
Catherine Singleton

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.