The morning dew drops fall to their rest,
Little stars gleaming with moonlight’s reflections,
Each a prism of distant dimensions
Where water weaves its timeless art.
...
On the tapestry of earthy green leaves,
A universal ballet begins its dance.
...
Spinning fractals sway to rhyming crickets,
Their choir humming a classical strain,
Soaring high as ancient redwoods
That tower over dew drops as they plié
Into a pirouetting waterfall,
Its crash a cosmic pulse of percussion,
Rising swift to a triumphant crescendo.
...
Then silence falls with dawn’s first light,
Transforming the dewy pantheon
To diamonds ablaze in golden rays,
Their stance defiant against the sky’s vault.
...
Back to the heavens from which dew wept,
A forlorn mist yearning for cloudward flight,
Yet bound by gravity’s tidal embrace,
Turning mist to rain, falling as stars.
...
Droplets destined to meet the lonely night,
And dance again in the dew drop ballet.
