Mourning Dew.

The sun rose at six today,

sparkling dewdrops rest.

The wind knows not what to say,

to crystal tears on grassy crest.

`

The drops grew slow below the sky,

aether joining solid earth.

The blades of grass with eyes did cry,

giving the soul a knowing berth.

`

With bended back, the blade bows low,

green grass with moisture in its face.

Howling wind of heart’s sorrow

does the silent grief replace.

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