Dawn’s Foresight

Tomorrow is a stranger on this far Wednesday night.

A faint fickle dew drop rests as an oracle on fated lawns

For neighbors to open their doors and test their toes in the rain of the grass

And bathe in dawn as she forces the dew to take refuge in their desirous pores,

Proving that tomorrow is no stranger, no, nor a guest.

Tomorrow is me,

And you,

And us

Undeniably

As intimate as the spider’s web and as complex as the human’s.

To fret for tomorrow’s richness is to doubt the dew on the grass,

And doubting the dew on the grass

Hinders neighbors from opening their doors.


Photographer: Pezibear

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