Morning fog

Morning fog

A Poem by m.s.early

The trees were disjointed until the fog
Creeping closer to forest center
Now fingers towering over a palm of mist.

The treetops a canopy
Perched on their ancient fingertips.

The morning called;
Its creatures ever chirping,
Awake despite limited visibility.

© 2021 m.s.early


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Morning fog has a magic of its own' its smell is almost a concoction, hard to distinguish one ingredient from another. Will think hard as can: the wet bark of old tree..' soaked banks of moss and bramble.. distant debris from herds or maybe resident wild creatures.. a drip or few of oil seepage or soot - perhaps morning chimney smoke trying to spiral. Fascinatingly unpleasant. yet. beckoning the human nostrils to analyse the make up off morning fog as iit drifts or stills - lives.

Your poem really has made me think.. remember - and in some weird way. remember how - amid all that confounded smell this or that is partly hidden, coping... living.

Posted 3 Years Ago


m.s.early

3 Years Ago

Thank you so much sweet poet. I've always valued your encouragement. It's good to hear from you.
I remember my mornings in California. The fog blinded you. Amazing use of words and thoughts my friend. Here in Michigan. Rare foggy days. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote

Posted 3 Years Ago


There is something sacred and special about two things. Anything regarding nature. And mornings. I know of this exact moment you write of, and if one closes their eyes, you can almost hear, taste and feel the thickness of the fog as it eases towards the sun. Thank you for sharing!

Posted 3 Years Ago


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Gee
Just back from walking the hounds. Yesterday the sun was splitting the stones, today all was veiled in a cold, clinging white. Can relate easily to your words.
Good morning

Posted 3 Years Ago


m.s.early

3 Years Ago

Thank you for saying so.
Cheers!
Your poem reminded me of the mists on the river, early morning. I wake to see ghostly trails and hints of tree tops before the sun chases those veils away. I do not see the ducks but I hear them and the swans tapping on the boat's stern. I am liking your poetry. You are a lover of nature.

Chris

Posted 3 Years Ago


m.s.early

3 Years Ago

I am. Thank you for noticing.
Your thoughts are appreciated.
at my age, I have limited visibility of mind...and the fog only partially lifts...but sometimes I can still see the tops of those trees...at least I think they are trees.
j.

Posted 3 Years Ago


m.s.early

3 Years Ago

Thank you j. Always a pleasure to have you visit

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Added on February 26, 2021
Last Updated on February 26, 2021

Author

m.s.early
m.s.early

VA



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"A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to take sides, start arguments, shape the world, and stop it going to sleep." -Salman Rushdie more..

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