It is the familiar unfolding of morning,
It is morning.
It is the sing-song of birds in the dawn light,
It is light.
It is the rumble of tractor on the beach,
It is beach.
It is the gliding of ducks in rhythm,
It is rhythm.
It is the ripple of a wooden boat through the stillness,
It is stillness.
It is the whiff of cut grass on the breeze,
It is breeze.
It is the echo of the calliope off the mountain,
It is mountain.
It is the nibble of a sunfish off the dock,
It is dock.
It is the wonder of diamond-hunting children,
It is children.
It is cliff diving into the deepness,
It is deepness.
It is the quench of a drink drank together,
It is together.
It is the cannon-shot of the Minne at dusk,
It is dusk.
It is a stick-full of marshmallows around a fire,
It is fire.
It is respite from the distractions of being,
It is being.