It starts with the morning

the sun behind the great oak

so perfect in its brightness

a call to get outside

breathe in the fresh damp air

from last night’s rain

 

to watch the slug 

as it pedal-waves

along the tender leaves of the hosta

and the robin in the dew-filled grass, 

head cocked listening, 

for its slippery breakfast

 

even the rabbit

with its twitching nose 

can sense a change 

in the air

a plea from the land

to return to a simpler time