Awe Unmastered

When I contemplate
morning's praise
and awaken at her
misty rebirth,
who is holding me back
from brushing my lips
upon pregnant life?

Creation desires
the name to be
dewdrops;
my kiss lingers
upon the wing
of a fountain's
masterpiece.

I soon crave
her soft arrival
on frozen soil,
where she,
the keeper of souls,
weaves together
murals of miracles.

If only she could
live forever sweetly
on the tips of my bud,
to cherish perpetually.