Trillions of stars glimmer across
the vast onyx sky
anticipating the flash of dawn.
Silvery fog begins to ooze along the river
initially laying low, advancing up
through the forest near sturdy roots
of stately ancient oaks.
Wild forest blossoms lift tiny
delicate faces upward
freshening in the morning dew.
Rising higher still, brushy brittle branches
extend, inviting the fogs ever-encroaching
silky scarf, thickening with dew,
creeping higher still, approaching the house.
The sun at last emerges,
barely above the glassine surface
of the Kennebec River,
projecting a silver-grey neon glow
illuminating my bedroom with warmth.
Briefly smothering the forest,
dissipating fog recedes,
quickly swallowed up
by the plump, brilliant face of Old Sol.