Thursday, April 12, 2018


All morning, perched above the town,
I watched the fog come creeping down,
The world unborning before my eyes,
Ridgetops dissolving into goodbyes,
Trees and houses bleeding away,
Transmuted into formless gray;
Our momentary scene looks grim,
The mountains fading, faint and dim,
But joy awaits, the sun is coming,
Reversing all our unbecoming.

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