Poetry / archive
Mist
Swirling vapour fills the sky,
Pearly white and misty grey,
It descends to the lower airs,
Filling all spaces big and small.
Wrapping all in its smoky cloak,
Hiding the hills and the glades,
And moving into valleys deep.
Morning comes as the east lightens.....
The mists vanish with the first gleam.
Uncovered, the hills and meads stretch,
Stretch as far as the eye can see.
The mist rises to the upper airs,
Leaving all fresh and clear......
While the sun lifts his bright arc,
Brightening the golden east.