Dew-Damp Lawn

this morning’s mist surprised, an hour
before the air was clear and resolute;
echoes of the night had clung with clarity
despite a rare and noble blanketing of
magnanimity embraced in sleep

that I awoke from deep repose before
the sun had climbed beyond the rim
and breached these steeple walls did
not suppose insomnia – still I need to
see the calling of each day

the thief of light composed a eulogy to
restiveness before my eyes, blending
day and night in gentle grey; the forms
were slender pictures masked politely
apropos the making of today

I rise again in solitude appraised, begin
inhaling misty platitudes of dawn – the
trees are bathed in rays of subtle morning
sun and shadows play caricatures
across a dew-damp lawn
© 27 September 2010, I. D. Carswell