On a cool June morning tendrils of mist and fog
Rise from the still waters of the lake.
The sun rises above the full green branches of trees.
It lights the mist, then melts it away.
Cottonwood seeds ride the lake's shimmering surface
While songbirds work their own morning routine.
A blue heron walks along the wooden seawall
Searching the shallows for his morning meal.
He is a prehistoric figure, a dweller of swamps
With the same gait as so many generations before.
On such a morning it is impossible to deny
The harmony, the purpose, and the mystery
Of Life.
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Such gloriously described early mornings at the Lake would even inspire me to get up at sunrise. Thanks for sharing these mysteries. In a way your words let me experience them too.
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