Winter Mist

Foggy Friday morning in January

Mist obscures the winter landscape
Dampening the muted colors
To the gray of herons
Fishing in the fog.
Wandering through the bareness of limbs
Ghostly sycamores
White and gray tattered
Into ribbons of the past
Smooth bark onto which
Spells and ancient runes are scribed
Seeking out the futures of spring.
Along the rocky shore
Bones white as the full moon
Old catfish and carp
Cast in leathery skins
Left as summons and signs
To the naiads cloaked
In the pale angelwinged shells
And freshwater mussels
Trailing at water’s edge.
Land returns to the sky
Rising from the receding lake
Islands once retreating
Now pushing effortlessly
To float again
Into the misty winter air.

34 thoughts on “Winter Mist

  1. Pingback: Acknowledging Milestones « Living The Seasons

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