Once when I was 16 and stayed up all night

In the dawn 

a pale grey light 

creeps upon the land 

soon replaced by the sun 

its hues and ambers 

of pink and orange 

adorn the horizon 

but no tendrils of light yet 

I step outside 

onto the porch -quietly 

so as not to make 

rickity wooden boards creak 

they are buckled and uneven 

that time and weather have aged 

the grey paint is cracking 

but glistens with the sheen 

of early morning dew 

the breeze blows through the nearby pines 

they sing a whispery spring wind song 

quiet lyrics 

and shaking their branches 

ready for the day 

down the wooden steps I go 

and onto the cool of the sidewalk path 

my feet are bare 

so I walk into the grass 

the wet of morning dew is on my feet 

a cold but comforting feeling 

each blade of grass holds me up 

on a cushion of strong but supple blades 

I hear breath next to me 

coming fast and strong 

looking down my dog Bud is here 

his Dalmation spots are dulled 

with mud that he's been in 

his tongue lolls about 

and he gives me that crazy 

blue eyed doggie stare 

of wonderment that I am out 

in his world this early 

I sit on the grass 

the wet immediately seeps 

through my jeans 

it doesn't bother me 

Bud sits next to me, licks my face 

and joins me staring out into the trees 

I scratch his head 

Bud is a good dog; a trusted friend 

A lone bird begins to sing 

morning is breaking 

and the suns first rays catch the top 

of the swaying whispering pines 

no traffic, no planes overhead 

no people, 

no others asking me to get drunk or stoned 

at 16, if just for this moment 

I realise that I am part of nature 

a scheme of bigger things 

part of the great machine 

known as mother earth 

it is a warm feeling 

and I am thoughtful about my future 

but there is time enough for that 

for now 

I am alone 

it is quiet 

all there is 

the morning sun 

drops of dew 

swaying singing pines 

and the panting of my dog Bud

--william paris