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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2172645
by Tinker
Rated: E · Poetry · Environment · #2172645
The ocean fog sifts through the redwoods in the coastal mountains of Northern California.
Through the Mist

The gray dawn yawns
without the sun in sight,
the autumn sky shifts
with a misty cobweb of fog.

Through the wet film
the tree’s green takes on a dusty shade
without reflection,
just a tinge
of its former self dares intrude.

A clammy chill lies on my skin
spreading cold up
to the base of my neck,
like a screech too shrill.

Mornings like these I want to crawl
back to my cocoon,
that warm spot
buried deep beneath our downy quilt
and dream of you beside me
on a summer afternoon.
                    --- Judi Van Gorder

Notes
© Copyright 2018 Tinker (tinker1111 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2172645