by Susan Fenton

Created on: May 24, 2009

Dawning

Swimming through the heavy summer air

I find a rustic bench.

Sitting, I watch for the day's arrival.

Steely-blue clouds, piled high like mountain ranges in the distance,

Begin to be edged with the palest pink.

Rosy-gray light slides over the meadow,

No longer murky and dark, and reveals the tall golden topped stalks that rim the pond

The thick air is washed by light, disclosing blades of grass, diamond-tipped with dew.

Queen Anne's lace decorates the base of a nearby maple.

A soft breeze, spicy, cinnamon-scented,

Holds aloft the songs of redwings and robins.

Three rabbits watch over me as I observe

Tall clouds on the horizon, their towering tops glowing pink and gold,

that foreshadow a coming storm.

.

The pond is still, reflecting the trees

And the birds flying silently overhead.

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