Bathed in shrouded light as the mists rise and disipate 
Into the blinding light of the day, melting with the heat
Revealing the treasure of dew and webs caught in grass
Decorating the tips of trees like an ornament too
Fragile to touch or reach beyond and yet you don't 
Want the moment of first reveal to pass, it would be
Good to hold the beauty and mystery for just another minute
But the day marches on lost to the next gift wrapped
In wings or sound or water, if we but slow and listen 
What will come does and what is gone is not to be
Grieved just a different timing of things past and future