Dawn is an eternal woman spirit of grace, arising with a soft sigh in summer's endearment, under a vast canopy of orange-red heavens, her curves are the deep green mountains laying luxuriously in great age, yet, with the newness of emerald sapling trees, I'm captivated by the glory of morning, as a dewy spider's web glistens and sparkles in nature's ornamental fashion, the whippoorwill surrenders her starlight concert to the chirping sparrows, and the wood fairies stretch their translucent wings.