I like that time, <br />the chill before the dawn <br />when dew still covers all, <br />and golden rays <br />highlight the spider's web <br />the one that's always torn <br />when first the farmer's wife <br />goes through the door <br />to get the morning's share <br />of eggs; each day the spider <br />builds anew, with patience <br />just to trap a fly or two. <br /> <br />I see the smoke rise now, <br />it re-ally is forest steam, <br />to me though 'tis a sign <br />that all the forest critters <br />have arisen from their sleep <br />and that the coffee's surely on. <br /> <br />I smile and visualise at once <br />my grandpa's face, the great moustache, <br />a Kaiser Wilhelm beard, 'twas called, <br />and now the first small squadron <br />of our honeybees alight, <br />to search the fields for sweets, <br />the rooster, shrill of voice, commands <br />that hens of pecking order status <br />get a move on, it is time he says, <br />a morning bath in dust and then <br />a little tête-à-tête inside the pen. <br /> <br />But I, backside at rest on soppy oak, <br />I watch the flowers, everywhere. <br />There always will be some <br />whose petals open with great care <br />yet with a pond snail's speed. <br />It is enough to keep me there <br />and reminisce.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-petals-open-2/
