Its easy to be humbled where dew drops may have tumbled

What is humble about water
reeds and sunlight
morning mist
orange clouds
pink shrouds
and shadows
places I seldom resist
reflections of the sky
and forest
from the pontoon
where I now stand
contemplating ripples
stipples
and humbled by what Nature
planned
out there in the mirrored water
what bold serpent
sits and thinks
for a millions years she may have slept there
in the moon light hours
she slinks
across the waters dark and eerie
silently a coiled refrain
slides across the darkened surface
like an elongated chain