Early Morning Light
—after Astrid Preston’s “Early Morning Light”
Upon the fog I cast my gaze
No more than a silver haze
To hide from me that which I seek
The secrets of this garden meek.
The limbs which grow, how high they reach.
The brush below, to obscure my feet.
What life does teem in the sleepy sun?
What creatures climb and crawl and run
And fly and burrow when the sun dost rise.
Here in the Early Morning Light