Dewy freedom

Morning wings play with sun’s rays,

dipping wildly over corn fields

and swooshing to the stream

where tails and tongues lap at dawn.


If a moment can be summer

and if a heart can answer to wind,

mine is held captive by small things

like moss on rock and weed behind tree.


Voices of reason do not count

when dew sparkles in morning sun

and it is enough to feel free

without knowing why.


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