The morning mist persists despite endeavours
of a charismatic sun; we’ll have to wait, there’s
more up there, we’d guess, a lowering base of
clouds to come with denser air, but then we’re
guessing what and where; th’ weather doesn’t
read or care our forecast for today’s a fair, fine
& middling mild, mid-winter’s treat we’d gladly
sign the dotted line to be assured eventuates
Tho yet again a solar bloom dictates just how
the mist evaporates into now clearing air - it’s
beaming energy to silently dictate that eulogy
declaring where and what this day will be - in
retrospect we’ll gain aplomb, agree that we’d
been sorely wrong believing otherwise again
© 2 August 2017, I. D. Carswell
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