Early
Morning Mist
A light
and wispy blanket covers the fields
No
deeper than the shoulder of a man,
Drawn
from the frosty ground
By the
first rays of the weakling sun
As it
slowly steals the morning
From
the wayward realms of night.
As
ethereal and insubstantial, it is,
As the
dreams that just an hour ago
Clouded
my sleeping brain.
They
vanished just as quickly into dawn,
And I
was drawn from sleep
To go
and walk amongst the mist,
Evading
all responsibility for unconscious thoughts.
That is
now the remit of the rooks
Assembled
in the hedgerow oaks,
And the
solitary hare.
1 comment:
Hi Pete, I just came across your blog. I really like "Early Morning Mist". I have a photo blog and wonder if you mind if I share this poem on my blog. Of course, I will give you credit.
Thanks for your consideration,
Joan - Downeydailyphotos.com
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