In the garden the shapes melt and fur in the mist. Their shadows soften and their leaves kiss.
It is not so with the ghosts that flit through the body like needled threads. One cannot avoid them any more than the air can stand aside from the passage of birds.
What color is mist? Is it blue or violet or simply just a dissemblance of form?
..and then the sun turns everything to color leaning against black. One underestimates the charisma of black until green gets drunk in summer's seductive fold.
1 comment:
When I'm in the midst of a deep mist, I get a feeling of peace that I don't find in any other environment. In fact, the most peaceful moments I've ever spent in my entire life were on isolated mountaintops in the deep, wet mist of clouds. On a couple of such occasions I'd just sit or lie down in the wet grass and delay leaving as long as I could.
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