a low mist hovers like a ghost
and it seems gems sparkle as the sun rises
making it a most glorious sight.
It is early on a Saturday morn,
crescent moon in an azure sky,
intricate ice patterns on cars
on a day I feel blessed to have been born.
The ice-scrapers are out in force,
surprised as are daffodil shoots
as seagulls gather
on the frozen pond of the golf course.
My breath is like an old locomotive's steam
as an orchestra of birds greets my ears,
I am contented as I drift
as if inside...a beautiful dream.