Mist

No wind this morning to hear the chimes

the low damp hang of clouds engulfs the ground

The smiling moon can not be seen

but it is there hanging waiting

holding it’s breath

the constellations under a disguise

of that mist has enshrouded the sky

Covered with a fuzzy blanket of morning dew

the soft sound of pitter pat hits the ground

for the clouds are low

big and puffy cumulous

billowing and wide meandering amoung the common folk

it won’t burn off while it’s dark, dreary and gray

so come with me a walk till we reach the trail

I will wait for the sun to come up

I will wait for the smiling moon to emerge from retreat

I will wait for morning to burn the mist off