Morning Mist

****
Fiery wisps of impish mist
Cross the early morning vale
Throwing fist at dawn’s first light
Holding tight as night’s last veil

Loitering through reeds and trees
Lingering in dark recess
Longing to be longer there
Lounging, laying, night’s long tress

Sun ascending warms the air
Mist recedes, resents assail
Night’s reminder, growing thin
Accedes and breathes its last exhale

****

© Copyright 2015 Robin McShane
As per this blog’s copyright

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