Morning dewdrops on the grass remind me of being a child

the made the lawn look white picket fence perfect

the cool wetness on my feet

I don’t remember why I would visit the dewdrops in the morning

but they have stayed with me all my life

as memory of barefoot summer mornings

One would think it would be the morning birdsong

but they live with me now

in my great pine tree

Only the sound of the carpenter’s saw

electric, starting up and slowing down

after each endeavor

and the clanging of hammer bringing nails into wood

could bring me back to childhood mornings

But the dewdrops are intertwined in all of my senses

as they are intertwined in all morning’s on earth

Where there is green

there will be dewdrops

to greet you when you break your sleep

And if you are lucky

you will feel like a child

each time you come to notice it