Through the Mist

Through the Mist

The gray dawn yawns
without the sun in sight,
the autumn sky shifts
with a misty cobweb of fog.

Through the wet film
the tree’s green
takes on a dusty shade
without reflection,
just a tinge
of its former self dares intrude.

A clammy chill lies on my skin
spreading cold up
to the base of my neck,
like a screech too shrill.

Mornings like these I want to crawl
back to my cocoon,
that warm spot
buried deep beneath our downy quilt
and dream of you beside me
on a summer afternoon.
                    --- Judi Van Gorder

Notes ▼

19 Lines
Autumn in the coastal mountains of Northern California
Free Verse
Entered in October 2018

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