i shall miss the mist~

 a grey mist hovers o’er the trees and there’s still 

verdant fields this morning, the first week 

of December, as the beginning of this Winter 

has arrived without the frigidity and the 

abundance of snowfall 

 

as the incarnate shell that houses my spirit gathers 

more years of bumps and bruises, my psyche has  

been challenged with the conflicts of life and my 

heart has felt the lament of solace and sadness, 

the tears and the joys 

 

my stay here has witnessed many Winters, then 

Spring times, warmth of Summers then colors of 

Falls, and once again Winters that weren’t so gentle 

as this one, i am grateful to this gift of ‘life’ and 

the years accrued in my sojourn  

 

so as i step out to be witness to this winter mist rising 

from the verdant fields, i feel and embrace the cool 

and the grey upon my skin and bones knowing that  

when it is time to depart from this, i will miss the mist 

and so too, Life’s melancholy joys  

 

 

~unforgotten souls~

walked out my front door yesterday, mine eyes panned 

around the col-de-sac that my house is built upon, looking 

up and down Cobblestone Court at the twelve homes that  

nest upon this cove caused my spirit to reflect, remembering 

the families who lived in these homes when first we, my wife

our canine children, first chose upon this abode 

 

and like the flowers in Springtime, and the same trees that 

are still there from when first we moved her as they bud  

and bloom, the different songs of birds that awaken me in 

the morn, having flown from the south to visit us in this, our 

northern lair, as warming breezes now give rise, awakening 

the other little residents that sleep through the grey cold nights, 

hearing their tiny nails scratching up the bark of trees, scurrying 

about, chasing one another in play 

 

so too like the seasons that born new flowers, these new families 

now feel the warmth of their homes in this nook, and i reflect upon, 

with but a slight of memory, families who were supplanted, along 

with morning their waves of hello and while in the Spring, their 

flowers would also wave in sway of blowing breezes as a melancholy 

smile evinces upon my face for those not forgotten souls now moved 

or passed on, and their familiar flora, who were there before