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
