Friday, March 5, 2010

still

still
the fog hangs
white mist gently obscuring
the trees stand as gray shadows
the moon a blurred whiteness
a slight mist moistens
from the deep sky
the frosted meadow glistens

still
I watch as my mind
clamors for succor
until as a babe
I settle all peace
as in my mother's arms

still

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