General

The dew is beading finer than any wedding dress, effortlessly following the curves of the earth. The green beneath shines through, rich dark grass upon this nurturing incline. Just as when it is made anew in wintry whiteness, I can turn to see the gentle imprints of my feet, whispering the direction of my journey.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), April 19, 2018.
General

White upon the new day's grass, shining in those first rays of sun, the dew brings a brightness that is warming somehow. Already there are green footprints making a path, strolling ahead of my bicycle wheels.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), April 19, 2018.
General

When the light comes the plants have a silvery sheen, even the gold of the daffodils. The dew will return to the earth and to the skies, quenching new spring seed and ascending to the white puffed cloud. Together with the nascent rays, it is a freshness, a natural wrapping upon the gift of a new day.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), April 19, 2018.
General

I measure the morning by the rising sun and the dew-laden grass. When the sun still rises it sends golden beams to illuminate forest and hill. For all the while there is that sheen, more pure than a high-gloss photograph, there is still time to walk, listen to the birdsong and breathe deeply. For when the grass is greener, drinking in the brilliant rays, I will be homeward bound.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), April 19, 2018.
General

The dew is a silk over the garden, the first gift to the new day. It comes by invisible hand, bequeathed in nature's silent way, to give as rain does, even when accompanied by clear blue skies.

By Angela Abraham (daisy), April 19, 2018.