There is something to be said
in the wee hours of the morning
of a summer day

The quiet and stillness of nature
still opening her eyes to greet the sun
I slowly open the porch screen door
the tension of the springs creaking as I do

The smell of wet hay upon this gentle wind
as I lean against the door frame taking it all in
hearing locust chime their chant in the distance
and the warmness of the wind caressing me

Sitting down on the old wooden steps
I remove my shoes and step onto the cool grass
where droplets of dew shine under the rising sun
bathing my feet with coolness

There is something to be said
and not described for this wonderful feeling
slowly sauntering through the wet grass
supple blades of green tickling my toes

Where every flower holds a butterfly
where the loon takes flight from the lake
smiling feeling the sun upon my face
how my eyes sparkle with pleasure

And in the distance there you are
my whisper of a thrill
my smile broadens
as you approach slowly and take my hand

Carolee Dennis-Woosley
September 7, 2012