Behind The Mist

 

On a little morning breath quite like this
The sky overcast with clouds and thick mist
While the  forest sleeps still on the grey hill
And the lake runs quietly beneath the bridge

I feel the cold air blow across my face
As i headed mountain-ward, in striding pace
the mind bent on the sweet coffee scent;
Stir the quill, once on the piney place

Not a soul seemed to see the shadow me
"mist me" floating unseen into the cafe
The coffee cup knows its destination
''The mountain'' asylum of my insanity

This is the alpha of a day i ever roll
Into the pines and the mountain i stroll
As the town became a consuming life vortex
A reflection mirrored into Pavlov reflex

To kill the death and revive the heart
With wisdom from Earth i have to start
From all that inspires i get a poesy
From the tiny creature, to the vast galaxy