The Dew

Morning comes crisp and bright, With dew upon the grass, a sight, Like diamonds laid upon the ground, A gift from night, so sweet, profound.

Each drop a mirror, reflecting dreams, The world awakes in quiet gleams, As life begins anew to sing, A soft reminder of each spring.

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In every droplet, the cosmos named, In tender nature, we are reclaimed.

• Henry David Thoreau