When the moon finally meets it's ceiling
Ahh, I wish I could describe the feeling

The countryside gives me a terrific peak
Early sun illuminates an anacamptic creek

The cricket's intuition ends their rhythmic chirp
I can see the dew glisten on the grass and the dirt

All silence - besides the wind and the bluejay
They spin through the sky for a game the two play

Warm waves of air push over the hills
Goosebumps ensue but I welcome the chills

This is a moment that an artist might draw
but he simply can't because he's part of it all

This is a setting that our memories reluctantly dilute
Though recollection of chores are crisp and acute

Try as I may - I can not pocket this instant
For when the day emerges it all becomes distant