Morning Fog

None but the fog
Reveals the pearls of dew strung
On each web, each tree.

Uncorked Violet

Once Violet's uncorked
It flows across the heavens,
Through Night dissipates
Into Black, on which the stars
Pose a few remembered shapes.

Even an errand
Is a worthy occasion
To catch the moment 
When the Geist of Sunset shifts
Pink, Purple, Gold toward Night.