Forest Fog In Fall - -
The damp and silent fogs of fall,
weave and wrap through pines so tall.
I, perched upon this wild hill,
breathe the moist, scented mountain chill.
Silver ribbon stream below meandering among red willows,
above a mist to haunt these hollows.
The woods appear dark, primeval hosts,
whispering arboreal ghosts.
The world beyond exists no more,
the very stillness settles into the quiet of my core. -DD
