Theworldawakenseachdayfromitsnightlyslumber,transformedbyasparklinglayerofmorningdewonthegrass,onflowerpetalsandleaves,oncarsandcarwindows.Theseglisteningdropletslastonlyalittlewhile,anintegralpartofwhatimbuestheearlymorningwithitsauraofmagic.Ifwesleeptoolate,wemissthemagnificentdisplayofsunlightplayinguponaninfiniteamountoftinycrystalballs.Tostepontothedew-coveredgrassistoanointourfeetwithaformofwaterthatcomesonlyonceadayforashorttime,ararefiedgiftofthenightairthatwillsoonevaporateinthefulllightofthesun.Ifweinhaleslowlyandconsciouslyenough,itisalmostasifwearedrinkinginthismagicalelixirformedintheboundarybetweendarknessandlight.
Inonemyth,morningdewisbelievedtobetearsfromheaven,andinanother,thedropletsarepouredfromthevesselofthegoddessofdawn.Whenweseetheearthdrapedwiththeseshimmeringdrops,itiseasytoimaginefairiesbathinginthewater,oraskygodweepingfromalongingtobeclosertohisbelovedearthgoddess.Seeingthesparklingbeautyoftheearthemergingfromdarkness,wemayunderstandthislongingintermsofourowngratitude;howblessedwearetobehere.
Perhapsheavenreallydoeslongtobehereonearth,andperhapsthatiswhyweareheresconduitsbetweenthedivineandtheearthbound.Aswedrinkthemorningdewinwithoureyes,ourskin,ourbreath,itiseasytoimaginethatitreallyisamagicalpotion,agiftfromheaven,areminderofourtruepurpose,andadailyopportunitytobetransformed.