on this morning of autumn
a white mist.
not the fine gauze of summer
that, lifting, reveals the bright day;
but a felted opaqueness,
layer upon layer of soft, fibrous air
fold, cling, drape,
enclose
loose threads drifting.
in this muffled world a heron wings by.
slow, scissored strokes.
a white mist.
not the fine gauze of summer
that, lifting, reveals the bright day;
but a felted opaqueness,
layer upon layer of soft, fibrous air
fold, cling, drape,
enclose
loose threads drifting.
in this muffled world a heron wings by.
slow, scissored strokes.
10 comments:
Beautiful words to match a beautiful time of year.
I too have been loving the misty mornings, even though I am still optimistically calling this time of year "Late Summer", I might be almost ready to accept Autumn is here.
'felted'. You captured it for me in that one word.
Beautiful picture with lovley words too! I can't believe it is almost October.
This looks so much like what I see each morning out in the fields around the village.
What a beautiful description, Alice...
the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness - your words and pictures sum it up perfectly
Stunning, Alice. When is your book of photos (complete with evocative descriptions) coming out, anyway? I would like an autographed copy, please. (P.S. Herons are one of my favorite animals. My sister calls them Magic Birds.)
Beautiful. K x
Oh to be as poetic as you, Alice - I'd prbably just look out of the window and go 'brrrrr'! Definately need to stay blogless for while longer!
Ah, Yes.
And how is your writing coming along?
Actually I can answer that.
Beautifully.
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