Morning Mist

Morning Mist Geese

Its rudder runs through the morning grass
In its wake, the dew a sea of tranquility; 
Its early gray aura taps at window panes
As to Morse code a waking message; 
It challenges the walking sun with playful scorn 
Softly, all living creatures come to life; 
The hues on nature’s landscape unfold
Brush-stroked by a master’s hand; 
Nightlights are extinguished one-by-one
As the sun attempts to peer through the glass; 
It creates hidden shadows for the nocturnal
To the meek-eyed, a bargaining plea; 
Advancing, it covers the streams and the lakes
As to see its own-misted reflection; 
Its content to be obscurely good
As it lofts upon the mountains; 
The morning breeze blows a gentle wind as to challenge
Its soft touch dissipates the mourning mist – their differences reconciled. 
Robert Sheridan