Risen early with spring dawn;
Light is at the perfect golden angle
And the air is newly formed.
Footsteps on the cool, dew touched
Lawn and ears filled with bird chatter
And twittering: a wood pigeon cooing
With sweetening purr.
Where the sun has made a glade
Among buddlia foliage a hover fly
Alights a leaf and basks for a delicate
Moment: then again to the
God is near
Not in the far flung heavens.
© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.