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The Spring Fog of August

Through the gorge of yellow and orange

Fog thrown, waiting for the dawn

Water ripples, ever winding throughout a terrace

A sight coveted by the evening light

The sounds of night, kept tight


Walls of support are carved by the canyons embrace

Woven through the foggy mist, the hills rest

Beauty boils from the crust of the earth

In thoughts of delight, I sit and ponder

What jubilee does the babble bring


Night settles, the stream carries on

The canyon and it's carvings rest in bliss

Strong and courageous, bearing no relent

Time moves with hands of caress


As whispering winds bring an earthy scent

Does gravity covet the light minded...

© 2019 Mitchell Marso

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