a tranquil fall morning, and fog on the lake
does not this ethereal calm beauty make.
and neither the sunrise, the colors, the clear,
nor the stubborn dawn stars twinkling still, and so near.
This beauty, comprised just of the sum of its parts
would not tear at our fancies and tap on our hearts -
no, something is behind it all and tying it together
something makes reflections be, but rarely meet, if ever.
and something is just forcing us to halt our gait and stare;
that something is informing all our souls of just what's there.
for the calmness of first light, the grasses deep green
we yearn to just stay there, our duties forsake;
for i always return, lest i miss the great scene,
to a tranquil fall morning with fog on the lake.