As I move around in gentle light. A shift’s occurred which ends the night. An ever flowing change by sun, which fades again once dusk’s begun. For now, I peek fresh-faced, anew, from hours of sleep a yearning to, start the day, light rises now, the moon steps back a graceful bow. A gentle mist hangs on the land, a winter frost clings on each strand, of grass, and plants alike do glisten with specks of glass and dew drops hidden. The birds will rise soon, crystals fade and melt in warming sunshine rays. The depth of Winter centres me, grounds me, holds me sets me free. Morning light, you let me see, morning light will be, will be.