Morning

In the cool air the night withdraws
leaving behind the tiny wisps of fog
that trail the roads and wandering paths
down to the smoky bogs.
The silver sky is turning gold
as the clouds go on their way.
The light reaches down to
play upon the dew speckled leaves
as the morning wind caresses the treetops
while swirling through the grass.
As light descends on cobbled roads
the fairies wake and spread their wings
to grace the morning sun, then fly up high
and sing aloud their merry morning song.

Reviews

[Poeticpiers]

A pretty, imaginative piece of poetic prose ivor