Raymond A. Foss Poems

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It is 7 am
And the world awakes.
There’s dew in the morning.

Every tip of the serrated
Wild strawberry leaves is gilded
With a morning’s tear.
The crown of each green
Blueberry clutches
A single dewdrop.

The carpet of moss is softened
By the morning mist.
Small spider webs in the
Lawn hold pearls of dew,
Outlining their maker’s artistry.
New birch leaves
Are ever greener.

Panes of mica in the
Granite underfoot
Hold a special sheen.
The world is brighter
When there is
Dew in the morning.

Written June 18, 2000, over the course of the day.

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