fundy 05 mist+wolfepipers 077

Kingsbrae 10.2
10 June 2017


Tisty-tosty ,
this morning mist,
white wisps
blindfolding bushes,
draping our world
with silent birds.

Eyes out of focus,
we squint
at shape and form,
mystery in the magic
of movement,
the air a-shimmer,
spider webs glistening.

Long lost sailors
return from distant seas,
dead warriors wake,
our ancestors walk
backwards in time
to greet us
in this mythical
dreamland that swathes
our senses,
wrapping us
in the mystery of mist.

Pan pipes:
a melancholy melody ,
moving among the reeds.

7 thoughts on “Mist

  1. Beautiful poem, Roger. I love the picture,also. There is something so dreamlike in both that I just might have to take an early afternoon nap. I’m actually surprised the nap has held off this long. It’s just too tempting to lean back and just zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

    Liked by 1 person

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