As sleep departs
fields lie in flooded mist,
shrouded and unkissed,
by the buoyant light
that sails upon its blanket.
From the hill we watch
the ebbing opacity
and greet treetop wraiths
as their fingertips
probe through,
petting the morning.
There is no urgency here,
no rush for rescue,
no fear of loss;
just the gentle caress
of waking.
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