Thursday Poem - At Dawn

At dawn, a frail moon waxing up there

in the blue, blesses a perfect summer
day, one that will never come  again.

Slow walkers in the early hours,

we go along together, paw and paw,

through fragrant summer yieldings of clover,
grass and daisies, of rhyming cricket,
humming bee and dancing leaf.

All around us, unseen but deeply felt
and loved, the world is breathing in
and out, our blended voices falling into
seamless light and tune and time.

Cate(me)