The Morning Dew
I sit still in my cabin listening to the robins sing and the warm air from the sun creeps under the door and filters its residue on the floor. I was tempted to sin but a strange emotions sets in and forced me to sing a woeful ballad .
The leaves rustles in the tree and my voice rumbled with the breeze attracting the magpie to the branch and it started to woo the robin on the limb.
Two different birds with two different songs singing two different tunes in a distant land. The pelican joins the choir, followed by the tropic bird, the flamingo, and the wood pecker.
The northern flicker had much to share, the sparrow and the skylark joined the pack and the bustard and turacos, converse with the waxing wings to decide which tune to sing .
The finches had some fun but the wrens were on the run. The tits brought the magpie and robin out with a rhythm that had everyone jumping and singing.
The profond melody warm up the sky and created a perfect harmony before the cloud dies. I had more than dew trembling on my lips, it was the magic of the little tits that created the bliss and when the sun rises up from the hill and absorbed the morning dew, a sudden warmth penetrates my soul.
I can feel the rythm moving in the sky and the whispers in the ocean when the boats roll by, the waves are beating on the rock pushing salt air back into the atmosphere.
A piece of nature has come alive and big ships are coming in; the voices are getting louder but the journeys are getting shorter .The morning dew has soaked my face and courage is wrapped around my waist and the melody binds them together.
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