Resurrecting Dew

I walk around in the garden Just after the luminance of first light I sense the impending warmth from the Sun I see the fresh drops of dew vanish from sight Next Day I went before the sun rose But I could not see the noble pearls in the dark I can feel the dew as the cool wind flows I instinctively felt it was azurean art The drops shall form again after the bleak twilight Having the gentleness of leaves and the harshness of cold They shall soon vanish after the first light And standing alone, the perpetuity I shall behold I ask myself, why am I always there Waking up to witness the dew If truth be told I am not aware Is it a habit I should follow through?