The Morning Glade

A shimmer breaks on dew-kissed leaves, In morning’s glow, the silence weaves. Awake, the earth in pastel hues, The tender light, a muse imbues.

Gentle murmurs fill the air, As petals dance without a care; The essence of the dawn renews, In every shade, the world imbues.

I stand in awe of nature’s grace, Each moment a rare, fleeting trace; And as the day ignites the sky, In morning’s glade, my spirit flies.

• Philip Webb