“MORNING DEW”

Dew that forms on the trees each morn,
a circle has formed.
A flowing branch, a woven tree;
there sits the brightest of stars.
A sparkle among the very best,
remembers the moment,
of your quest.
Budding yet, to adorn;
beyond the rest,
‘Tis the morn,
you were born.

by Rachel Bertoni