Poem: Misty Morning



Misty Morning


A flock of crows flies out and in.
The mouse runs beneath a bush, unseen.
The silver air hides its fleeing.

The trees emerge from swaths of it.
A leaf falls silently, in obscurity,
kicked free by invisibility.

The sky alights, of glowing sun
within—it’s photons scattered
reveals a world pristine.

The mist rises, allowing “recognizability”
of the world once known
by time’s “unfathomability.”

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