Peter Newton

The Dew from The Rain

By 7 a.m. my bare feet are kicking
what's left of the morning dew
splashing the meadow again
with last night's rain
on the grassy path to the pond
a towel over my shoulder
deep in the July of my life,
it's hard to tell which is which
the dew from the rain
but I was made for this kind of trying.

tadpole
a comma
in my life story