MORNING MIST
The early morning mists hung heavily everywhere,
Closing out the great beauty that is usually out there,
The mist in lonely elegance masking friend and foe,
As if the world is in solitude and should always be so.
Even sound seemed silenced by the mist and gloom,
As if this mist was the harbinger of some great doom,
Dawn turned to day but mists still conquered the sun,
It was as if the day itself had not wanted to come.
The dew lies heavy on the sombre, sad green grass,
Just about all that can be seen as we quickly pass,
Except for the first row of forest trees on each side,
The rest of the beauty just seems to want to hide.
Maybe this day will turn out quite warm and clear,
With the sun winning the battle bring her face near,
A warm day, a fresh day then before my hopeful eye
See her set in sweet beauty in the far western sky.
(Millicent) Ann Margetson 6 September 2004