Fondly the Morning

Fondly the morning
cool, crisp, and misty.

A freshness in the air
as if there were
a scent to sunrise,
that first warming of the Earth,
as it spins to day.

The bird’s breath
sending notes to the sky,
I wonder —
do their feathers gather dew?

Let the fog hang low
and hover over grasses,
the pond.

Let it meander through the trees
as memories do,
once forgotten —
drift into sight.

A gentle reach reminds us,
this is as close to touch
as we will ever be.