In The Early Hours

In the early hours, of a summer’s day,

I stand and admire, though my toes get wet,

Watching swirls of mist and fresh daylight play,

As sunbeams are snared, in the spider’s net.

The scent of blossom, from apple and ‘thorn,

Fertile white flowers, gather in the bee,

The strengthening light, drowns forever the dawn,

As I take a sip, of my morning tea.

A flash of yellow, of the blackbird’s beak,

Gains my attention, makes my movements pause,

As he hops from log, to soil to seek,

The juiciest worm, to add to his cause.

In early morning, I breathe in the scent,

Take in the flowers, which are Heaven sent.