At first light of dawn
the sun bursts through the trees;
in shafts of morning light
dewy grasses become
a carpet of glittering jewels.
A flutter of wing from the fields,
the rustle from the hen house,
a distant cow bell as yet
the only audible sounds.
From the wood tiptoeing deer
emerge from the mist of a first frost
hungry and ready to forage;
life on farm and field alike stirs
and comes awake.
Blessed be the early risers
treated to these golden moments
surrounding the beauty
of one of Autumn's sunrises.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem