In Dew Mist
an upturned face under a mystic morning
KTHT 15-Day Writing Challenge — a poem, day 4
Strolling soft under sycamores passed trestles of roses,
Worlds reflected on red petals of tenacious drops of dew
Clinging like newborn children to a mother with love.
Portaging between drops, entranced by tiny worlds of bending
Beams of light caressing each world, I float between them;
Transported by cosmos small and large as memories of star cast nights.
Me drifts cascading into sleep with fits of wake, dredging the sky and deep stars with my oar, once a rudder and now a pole, and then all direction gone.
Misting on my upturned face earthbound with feet rooted deep and
Head in the raucous stars above. How me longs for stretching limp into
Slumber deep and straining in the wake to stay asleep as light bent drops
Spray mystic stars all whet on my night starved face, and I awake.
©2021 F. K. Ontario
