The sky was true blue, the pine trees, free green.
Eyes could not do to view this mind seizing scene.
As the haze of rise grew, the dew drips leaves clean
and the day sighs anew, in this life breathing machine.
A bit of bright sneaks across treetops of lore.
Little light leaks are lost to ferns on the floor.
In the right weeks, there be mushrooms galore.
As high daylight peaks, thrush and warbler songs soar.
In rare, open areas or holes a storm tore,
fare berry hysterias that cajole souls to roam more.
But, the pre-eve beach beckons, stars and sunset to adore,
in fleets of pleasing seconds, by far, done best from shore…