Mist in the Hills

Two Perspectives of Fog

Lurking at the edge of the world
Curling careful fingers over varied lands
The quiet, dismal blanket unfolds
Damp and dusty,
Like the attic of the recently deceased
Solemn and silent,
The graveyard attendant shrouding all the earth
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Hanging thoughtfully,
Like a curtain covering an open window,
Silvery mist lopes along,
Propelled by gentle winds,
Acting as magician;
Illusions hiding what really is,
A careful distortion to a rigid world
Bringing beauty to what is not,
And what is for a time

Rain Miller