Morning Dew Poem by Orly Palmaria

The morning sun exalts the day.
It paints the blues of sky above,
The amber hue of drying hay,
The snow of cotton-winged dove.

It sets the pines to let the scent
That fills the woods the fragrance due,
And pays the singing birds the rent
To serenade a morning dew.

And only all about that dew
Must one be fretted much with care,
That sole a drop is sure and true
The reason sun does burn and flare.

Just a single drop of moisture,
Born at night in icy darkness
Down that wicked pleasure verdure,
Keeping secrets none did witness.

Then something blazing turns to rime
To see dark footprints all over
And learn of that nocturnal crime,
Summer hurried into winter.