In the hush of dawn's first light, Where mist and earth softly unite, A homestead wakes to the day's invite, Veiled in a haze, oh what a sight. The sun, a shy orb, begins to ascend, Its rays through the fog, they gently bend, Kissing the grass, the fence, the end, Of night, as colors of morning blend. The house stands still, a silent guard, Against time's relentless, marching bard, Its walls have stories, its windows marred, By years of joy, and times that were hard. Power lines sketch across the sky, A sign of life, a soft, low sigh, Of a world beyond, where dreams may fly, Yet here, in peace, the hours go by. So here's to mornings, fresh and new, To countryside mists and skies so blue, To the simple beauty we rarely view, In the rush of life, to pause, to renew.