Sweet Nothings
Dawn tiptoed over the hills, leading troops of fairies in a silent morning ballet. Some painted the leaves with dabs of gold and crimson. Some set leaves free to sail across the sky.
Some woke the goldenrod and shook the sunflowers from their dreams. Some fed the milkweed and polished the autumn berries.
The most talented of them danced across the lawn, hanging globes of dew on the spider webs and grasses.
And when all the details were exactly in place, morning carried the breeze up through my window to wake me with the whisper of sweet nothings in my ear.
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