Poem #3

Morning Mist

Mist in the morning,

Mist in the valley,

Flowing silently

Over mountain ridges

Down into valleys.

Hovering, dampening,

Evil and close.

Sunlight

Weak and cold,

Meekly trying

To brighten the day.

No bird sings.

No creature stirs.

All is silent

Cold and damp.

I shiver

And sullenly tramp

On through the wet grass,

Down through the gloom

Of the valley ahead.

A lone magpie

Bravely carols a greeting

And I courageously

Shout in reply

But my words

Only echo

Mockingly

As a flurry of feathers

Tell of my departing friend.

But the spell has been broken.

The mist

Like a stealthy ghost

Slips silently away,

Quickly enveloped

By the strengthening glow

Of the new day’s sun.

All rights reserved.

Copyright 2006 Trevor W. Hampel.