The mist
Soft the mist falls on my face
cold waters stumble and chase
Sparrows and robins and dunnocks flit
the empty branches twitch as they quit
too quick to study their features
these mocking, ephemeral creatures
with the blessing of life each is kissed
in the gossamer embrace of the mist
exhaled by the woodland as they search
in the spinneys and copses of birch
that whisper in secret code
tales of their ancient abode.
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