Watch the dewdrops in the morning,
Shake their little diamond heads,
Sparkling, flashing, ever moving,
From their silent little beds.
See the grass! Each blade is brightened,
Roots are strengthened by their stay;
Like the dewdrops, let us scatter
Gems of love along the way.
~Myra Viola Wilds, author of Thoughts of Idle Hours
The dew of autumn is not a summer dew;
these are sticky, frosty gems,
clinging for dear life
before being swept away by cruel winds.
I too am enveloped by the chill,
yet so illuminated by each drop
that I am overwhelmed by such treasure
given so freely on this dark November day.
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