An unseasonably cool
August morning greets me
As I leave the house,
Perhaps it's a portent 
Of the autumn to come. 
The dogs wander happily ahead
Through the dewy grass,
Their panting breaths lending percussion
To the distant predawn chorus
Of roosters and owls;
A misty fog 
Rests lightly upon the ground
Then rises to veil the full moon
As she sinks toward the west.
Slowly, as the world awakes,
The songbirds begin their singing
And I spy some
Of nature's other early risers:
The morning glories along the fence row
Are already open,
A flock of turkeys congregate in the lower pasture,
And a rabbit darts back into its warren
Before my dogs can give chase.
As we return from our walk
The first fingers of sunlight
Are breaking over the mountain
That shadows our farm,
My father sits in his rocking chair
On the front porch,
Nursing a cup of coffee
And watching the sunrise.
We say little, only smile in understanding,
Enjoying our individual solitude
And our time with God.