Beauty of the Morning

 

She wears the beauty of the morning
like a meadow gently dew-clad
sighs of springs fair breeze
play against my cheek
as we walk through chalk-rooted meadows
She hugs the stones
like a child holds her mother
then departs their grasp smiling eyed
Weaving around stones
Weaving between worlds
We are two strands of this ancient thread
sewing and binding us together through timeless ages
life and love
land and lore
And when we pass beyond these sacred days
the blooms that climb anew each spring
Will carry in their scented flower
the memory of we lover's power