Mists of morning...

For a time I lived by water, swayed by its moods, conversing with its murmurings, lulled to sleep by its waves. My conscious and unconscious evolution was a reason to land there and linger for some years before circumstance effected change. Though rustic and primitive, my cabin and its windows on the water had much to teach; I took each lesson to heart and the result was transformation.

Friday, November 25, 2011

Waking

Fog's fingers
pull curtains of mist
over morning.
Sleep-shuttered eyes open,
awaiting a sliver
of sunlight.

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