Fresh

Fresh

In the hush of dawn, the dew‑kissed grass exhales, A scent of earth, of green, of morning’s first sigh. The baker’s oven sighs warm loaves onto the counter, Crust crackling like autumn leaves beneath a steady tread.

A bowl of berries, plump and ruby‑red, Bursts with juice that drips like liquid sunshine, Each bite a reminder that life renews, That even the weariest heart can taste beginnings anew.

The river, clear as polished glass, slides over smooth stones, Carrying whispers of distant hills and distant dreams, While children’s laughter rings across the pavement, Their shoes splashing in puddles that mirror the sky’s fresh blue.

So let us walk this day with lungs filled with crisp air, With eyes that see the world reborn in every leaf, And know that freshness is not merely a season, But a steady pulse, quiet and constant, beating within.