Misty Touches.The early mist swirled, cloaking the plains,Hiding their bounty and riches, Creating a mystery in silken skeins, An embroidery of many stitches. Rolling and curling wherever it deigns, Caressing hills, valleys and ditches, As the sun rises with tentative gains, Loosing its ties and its hitches. Its ally, the wind, seldom restained, Blustering through, gusting keenly, Proving how temporarily it reigned, The haste in its passing, unseemly. Loyalty to mist, openly feigned, Laughing and mocking it meanly. Like dust from timbers, freshly planed, Rewarding its presence, leanly. Hide in the shadows until its dawn, Gather your courage and vigour, Then roll out, oh, smoky gray lawn. Better and bolder and bigger. As the world wakens and stifles a yawn, Facing each day's unknown rigour, Though in weather's game, you're merely a pawn, You cut quite a startling figure |