Early morning fog obscures the eastern ridge,
holding the dawning sun at bay-
resting its gray blanket across the still waters,
soft as the color of heron wings.
Warm fog obscures the bath’s mirror-
holding the real world at bay.
Resting your face against my neck-
softly our hair entwines, the color of heron wings.
*** for imaginary garden with real toads 55 word prompt and poets united poetry pantry