Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Mist


By David Roth
© 9th August, 2011

I dreamed of gently sloping hills
with laurel buds
and huckleberry fruit
a laughing brook
and newborn trees
and clouds that hide the hilltops.

where water weeps through speckled stone
and gathers in a pool
where bullfrogs croak
and robins sing
and forest creatures stop to drink.

A mist that strains the morning sun
in silver luminescence
while dew drops dance
from heather lips
of purple flavored kisses.

And from the creaking porch side swing
that overlooks my mountain home
of silken moss, and bramble spikes,
I dream the lonely broken dreams
that drift as smoke in moonlight
and carry me to evergreen
and sloping hills
fast swallowed in the mist.
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