In the early light of morning, When the dew rests gently upon the earth, I bow before the beauty of small things— A fragile flower’s blush, The intricate dance of insect wings; Here, I am reminded of the strength it takes To emerge from darkness, the comfort found In embracing the warmth of each new dawn, And I stand rooted, like the ancient trees, Listening to their wisdom sung in whispers, Bearing witness as life insists again to rise, Eternal, in the air that breathes, swells, and sighs.

— “Morning Dew”

• James Wright