A poem about an early morning sun rise over a meadow.

The Meadow

The night gave way to the early
morn; it struggled to keep the cloud cover wrapped around itself. It was then, in between sleep and awake fullness, a ray of sunlight punched a hole through the crumpled blanket of cloud spotlighting a patch of green meadow.

Invisible hands of Mother Nature gently rolled back more of the warm covering of the nights eiderdown, as it lay snugly over the King sized bed named Earth. The morning sun rose from it's hiding place behind the great Great Tor
mountain which always drew the eye to the Eastern skyline.The green meadow was now blending itself with the lands, copse, and harrowed fields as night shook off the last of its dark dreamland.

Sol, now fully glowing against a background of reds, pinks,yellows of every hue as it crowned the mountain with a golden orb.Morning mist began to gather in the low land where daisy’s grew. Clumps of Daffodils nodded in the direction of their trumpets, while Blue Bells formed a pathway to guide the early morning hiker to the wood near Benbow's farm.

It was going to be a beautiful day, teaming with all that Nature had to offer to all who had eyes to see and minds to understand. For Mother earth
could not force upon those who's minds were closed to her gifts.