Dew

From the cold airs of the dark

Like a thief it Springs to life

In the dead of the night

Waiting upon dawn,

To kiss the sweet beams

Of the rising sun

This tiny rainbow worlds

Twinkling, dangling from leaves and tubes

From branches, glass and roofs

From grass by road sides, and grazing fields

To the delight of mowing cows and bleating goats

But to the chagrin of the old school herdsman

Or the kid caned for soiled shoes

On a Monday morning

Till it rides the rising motes

Till it runs and hides

From the heat of the sun

So it can rest for the day

Till mother nature cries again