Ephemeral Light

In dawn's soft grip, the mist lays low, A silver veil in morning's glow. Each blade of grass wears jeweled dew, A thousand worlds, each small and true. The earth sighs low, as night unwinds, And silence hangs between the pines. In drops of light, the morning’s hymn, Each crystal gleams on edges slim. Where mist and grass in secret meet, The quiet whispers under feet. A fleeting breath, this life, this day, Then mist and dew will fade away. Yet in their touch, a moment rare— A world held close, dissolved in air.