I Miss the Dewdrops
As much as I like the noise,
I miss the woods.
I miss waking to the frail
morning, early in the summer.
Feeling the dew
on my feet so pale.
The mist refreshing.
My spirit feeling so light that
away from the earth I could sail
The air smelling of flowers and water
like rose tea steaming up my face.
like a ghost’s footsteps following my trail.