Morning's Golden Canvas

The dawn breaks gently, wisps of sunlight creep

Across the fields where flowers nod and sheep

Still slumber, dewdrops glitter on each blade

Of grass, the world in soft focus, nighttime's shade

Fading to reveal a canvas for the sun

To paint upon.

This brand new day's begun

With songbirds' trilling notes, sweet music for

My ears as I step out my cottage door.

Each waking sense now greets the morn anew -

The chill, fresh air, a sky of palest blue,

The lowing cows, the bleating of their young,

The country sounds that city dwellers shun.

I breathe it in, this pastoral utopia,

Each morning's birth a new discovery

Of nature's charms, from every shade and hue

To textures, scents that city streets eschew.

The fields, the woods, the water's sparkling flow

Bring peace; away from crowds I'm free to slow

My pace and wander where the fancies lead -

To pick wildflowers, across a meadow mead.

Alone but not alone am I out here

Communing with the creatures I hold dear,

Who share this space between the earth and sky

Our sanctuary where we walk side by side.

I tread the path that generations trod

And feel as one with nature and with God.

The day awaits, the sun climbs bright above,

I'm filled with joy and gratitude and love.