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Last night
The evening blush
Promised early morning sun

Yet over there at break
The bird still sits
Hidden in a mist

And on the chimney hush
Another barely wakes

While the long legged watchman
On the roof
Quietly stares

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Gill McGrath© August 29
first shot: yesterday evening from window ~ late
other shots: this morning from window ~ early

nothing like mist

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Strange is the mist

That has no face

That is

That was

That cannot be


That settles its breath

For miles

And cannot see

Where it was

Is going to be

Clinging to the mask

That will



Then rest in peace

Some other place

~ Gill McGrath © July 16    [photo taken 4.23 am July 6]

My little ode to the early morning mists which roll around  over the river at the bottom of the hill carrying on upwards ~ defining the  layers and dips beyond the ridge in turn revealing and masking the horizon~ only  to disappear  into  the  warmth of  the  rising sun.