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.