The nail-on-the-chalkboard voices of early morning –
Mumbles of sleepy excitement.
Awaiting the fields and hills
embellished by foggy speed,
The weary comforts offered by
Sweaty, steamy summers and
The delighted faces of family separated by
Miles filled with love.
The lady of Dawn wrapped in tinsel fog,
Her spangled robes billowing atop the hills –
Couched within, lies the Dark Night –
The magic blue of deep, deep pools,
The threatening shadows of owls and bats
The worst illusions of Hecate’s conjuring.
Each day engenders devilish schemes and monsters,
And yet the fogs swirl on within this
Crystal ball of blue.
In response to the Daily Post Daily Prompt: Foggy