Mists flowing through trees
Compelled by wind’s urging.
Rivulets descend the glass
Warping these trees I view.
Refraction’s coloration divine.
Sunlight glitters upon them,
Moments flickering through
Greyness, cloudy murk
Defines my land. White
Farmhouse upon the hill
Calls to me, wondering
Where I’ve journeyed, the
Familiar seeps into my
Bones. Salvation.
Misty Motion
