Poem #25 Morning Mist

Morning Mist

Mist in the morning,
Mist in the valley,
Flowing silently
Over mountain ridges
Down into valleys.
Hovering, dampening,
Evil and close.

Weak and cold,
Meekly trying
To brighten the day.

No bird sings.
No creature stirs.
All is silent
Cold and damp.

I shiver
And sullenly tramp
On through the wet grass,
Down through the gloom
Of the valley ahead.

A lone magpie
Bravely carols a greeting
And I courageously
Shout in reply
But my words
Only echo
As a flurry of feathers
Tell of my departing friend.

But the spell has been broken.
The mist
Like a stealthy ghost
Slips silently away,
Quickly enveloped
By the strengthening glow
Of the new day’s sun.

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2007 Trevor W. Hampel


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