The glory of morning.
The light caresses the dew touched earth with slow familiar intimacy.
Long fingers of warmth trace gently over the landscape igniting the heat within.
The slow burning of the past evenings cool, wet, relief.
Gentle moisture following paths of least resistance tracing lines on bare fields.
The heat of the sun blazing down, foolish in its endeavors.
Burning off the glistening wetness.
Forcing the dew to rise again.
As evening settles, and cools her down again.
He will arrive again in the morning to start it all again
The glory of morning