~Morning Mist~

Its rudder runs through the morning grass

In its wake, the dew a sea of tranquility;

Its early gray aura taps at window panes

As to Morse code a waking message;

It challenges the walking sun with playful scorn

Softly, all living creatures come to life;

The hues on nature’s landscape unfold

Brush-stroked by a master’s hand;

Nightlights are extinguished one-by-one

As the sun attempts to peer through the glass;

It creates hidden shadows for the nocturnal

To the meek-eyed, a bargaining plea;

Advancing, it covers the streams and the lakes

As to see its own-misted reflection;

Its content to be obscurely good

As it lofts upon the mountains;

The morning breeze blows a gentle wind as to challenge

Its soft touch dissipates the mourning mist – their differences reconciled. 

 

Copyright (c) 2006 Tinka Boukes & Dennis O’Bell