In and out of light, driving
on a road into the hills.
To the left, a wall of rock
with innards blown away
to upright face. Brief travel
with a hawk. Its shadow leaps
onto the road, then
passes over me, and for a flash
I follow him, to fly out
over still-leafed rising shapes,
light-footed mist escaping
from their folds, bits of thought
deposited by rain, caught on
the arms of trees. Memory tucked into
shadow, waiting for the sun
to lift it clear and dance again.
Tag Archives: mist
mountain mantle
cloud blanket from the mountain top
reaches all the way down to me
gentle gray in ebbing light
enwraps the shoulders of my soul
the night and what awaits
are gone and I am hid
a shiver in response
at best cloud rain is gentle
settling on the skin
its spider weight unfelt until too late
deed done a feather light ganache of truth
glistens over every inch
just as tight shut childish eyes
imagine invisibility
this passage through no more than respite
as I emerge so does the world
______________________________________
driving home last night after a day’s most welcome rain, at the last steep open hill, most of the mountain was hidden by clouds and mist, reaching low, a thrilling sight.
Dancer in the mist
I stand alone, counting time
wrapped in the kiss of fog,
sensing but not seeing
others of my kind
waiting, shouldered, upright
at the edges of this pasture.
I dream in solitude, aching
for the touch of other roots
however faint, to feel
earth’s water flow to
reaching deep dug tendrils
of my kindred in the woods.
I dance in secret, moving
with prevailing winds,
my branching shape their echo,
but in summer dark or autumn mist,
the sounds of crickets, calls of flying geese,
lend their beat to summon ecstasy
as I sway until the dawn.
_____________________________________
the tree in this photo seemed to move in place.
photograph by Jon Katz, copyright © 2014,
used with permission.
Life With Horace 