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Poetry: “The mists”

Some more weather based poetry.

***~***~***~***

The mists

The morning left
Its coat across
The weary beaten land

Damn and heavy
From the rain
That fell all through the night

Not a single breeze
Or gust of wind
No, the air stands deathly still

Each branch and stalk
Hangs broken
With the weight of that old cloak

It is only when
Some sunshine
Shines some light on sodden fields

That the coat dries up
And morning
Comes to gather up that coat

***

Copyright © 2017 · All Rights Reserved · Fantasy Transcendent

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