Pre~Dawns Amber Light

Pre~dawns, amber, dew drop lights,
dance on mountains lips, to cite,
flicking embers, glowing sprites,
mimick tiny morning birds,
in spry quest, victual rites,
beckoning companion words,
through the muse - insistent shake,
to the poet lazy, wake.

For if a tree is never seen,
then who might say what beauty's been?
And some would scoff at such a trite,
especially in pre~dawns light.

But when the songs of life recite,
it leurs the poet unto its sight.
to capture its fancy with butterfly net,
this rarely glimps - ed wonderment.
For what is life but not mere sense,
there is a rhyme for where and whence.

And so we must pursue our yen,
listen to muse and diligent pen,
go with the flow of nature like zen,
without thought or question...?

How mind denies the quirky throe,
plunge us into rampant woe,
start or stop our essence flow,
but with our hands makes us unique.

With gift of speech, the need to speak~

So dance my tongue, in pre~dawns light,
whilst senses reel in delight,
for by the by will fade my sight,
and I will hear,
mine eyes gone blear,
my children tell...

of glory beheld,
one early morn,
cloaked in white scorn,
of amber dewdrops flickering light,
and with mere words,
this, they will write,