fine are the mists

that play around

the morning mountains,

young they are,

wide awake,

surveying all the land.

It's all below

extends in all directions

and we are here,

and soon,

we'll see it all.

The mists will slide

so lovingly into

the valleys, dissipate

or nestle by

the stately pines

for a few moments more;

The sun is claiming

the horizon

taking time

in gold and splendour,

making it your own

reflection

in the waters of

a still blue lake,

awakens, smiles at you

a welcome home,

with all my heart:

I welcome you,

sweet morning.