Mornings these days are covered in dew. The grass–wet. The flowers–wet. Everything is wet. My son’s jacket was left out last night. I found it after my morning run, soggy as the rest of it. The field is dewy and filled with spider webs. The whole stretch of it is filled with webs. They drip with dew and as the sun angles low across the world, they shine. Looking out in the early hours I can see them hanging between stalks of aster and milkweed and goldenrod.
This morning Venus dangled in the sky like a jewel. The wind stirred the fog over the river. The asters, closed for the night, bent in the breeze. The world woke. And I ran out into it and back. And I felt alive. And the sun rose over the beauty of it all.
And there we have a September morning.