The Messenger

An opaque dimness greeted the day Obscuring all in a tender gray Nothing of interest was left to see For all was cloaked in mystery.

A fuzzy fog had swallowed valleys and trees But left in their midst the comfort of ease For the trees as they nestled in tight Enjoying cloaks of winter's delight.

I witnessed unexpectedly ice on some limbs And realized more than fog had come in By dawn our world would be icy and cold Exploding with elegance from nature's stronghold.

Don't Pass Me By

Ghost Trees and Bullfrogs