Robert M Baumbach Art and Photography

I awoke to the morning mists

And put on my walking shoes,

To stroll the lane through the fog

And witness dawn of a new day

Laden with dampness and dew.

The sun peaked and poked

And coaxed the grasses

To straighten from their slumber

And peer through the trees

To a fresh morning anew.

Upon the berries and wet leaves

The sun brought forth its warmth.

As I walked the path,

The fog thinned and thickened,

Held by the forest reluctant

To release the mellow mist.

The fence faded into the cool haze

While a jogger passed by quickly

Dissolving into the dense vapors.

An old gate lied in wait where

It once served to close the pasture

From wondering bovine hooves,

Now it hangs open to greet the new light of day.

The warm orb began to melt the mist

And thin the vapors that started the morn,

To make its way down the vale,

To paint the leaves

With a glistening yellow light.

Streaming, streaking sunshine

Surrounded the tree with rays,

And stretched and reached far

Through the thick morning haze.

My walk soon came to an end,

But my mind lingers like the morning mists,

In fond memory of the awakening

Of my golden friend.