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Aug 2015
Breeze sighs coyly, ever the temptress
Carressing stalks of intoxicated flowers in contented stupors
Drooling dewdrops, yet virginial to sobriety

Paint on the tiled driveway dresses in dawn
Whiter than white, patches of sky afoot
Wet smell of earth the last reminder of night

7.03 upslope scarce affords a glance
Worlds of wonders skipped in every stride
Morning birds shriek from their green citadels, messengers of war

Heart sighs. There is much cause to surcease.
Mind grips the reins tighter. Perfect Monday weather.
Over two years ago I wrote "Ride to School". Mornings since then have changed, yet remain as emotionally jarring.
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