I saw breath rise from the swamp this morning.
                 Peat bogs were adorned with opals,
                 the rain pond wore diamonds
                 and boughs of holly masked the ancient cypresses.
 
                 Morning cold made the horses spirited
                 their heads swayed left then right, they bucked,
                 kicked, and cantered over the field.
 
                 It could have been steam rising off their backs,
                 but I think I saw angels' breath.

 
                     Copyright © 2006 by Dave Ruslander