Mist
Mist of gray seductively whisks across ground,
Gracefully embracing all in a shroud,
Playfully veiled game of peek a boo.
Dampness of air settles on flesh,
Invitation to dance in the foggy delight,
Life awakens in morning softness.
Calmness settles as engulfed,
Intimate moment in stillness,
Fuzzy moment filtering light.
Wetness on blades of grass,
Alfalfa drinking relief deeply,
Each steps paints boots with dampness.
Life is good,
Many people and things,
Gratitude cloaks as mist swirls.
Another Nebraska morning,
Beauty of the high plains,
Solitude's draw in forgotten places.
About the Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.
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