The soft earth awakens. Fresh dewdrops cling To the blades of grass, To my picnic table, To the windows of my car. Outside the Door The sun has begun Its ascent above the skyline. And its rays begin To splay upon the horizon. In the beginning, Where did man lie down his head each night? Did the morning dew greet him Each sunrise as he awoke? Did he sleep under the stars, In the open air, Or did he seek shelter most nights? The earth is soft and lush. Outside the Door The heat of the summer Has already begun to take ahold. The breeze is my reprieve. The birds are my companion. As we share a moment In the early dawn Before the sunrays get too bright And I, too, must take shelter From the blazing sun.