At last a faint glimmer of light
begins to outline the live oaks
with their long gray beards,
the cypress knees and
the palmettos and sabals;
the egrets take to flight,
cranes wade through the swamp
seeking fish hidden below.
The nocturnals retire,
it is dawn; the rising sun
bakes away the mists of night
Across the vast 'glades.
Copyright © 2013 by John Bliven Morin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem