Waiting for a Bus

Written by: harry horsman

The darkness ends
gives way to the dimness that descends,
the moor land mist mingles on ceremony
a subdued veil strokes the trees.
Dewy webs glisten
in reams of silver thread,
while rushing waters flee 
over rocky beds.
Shadows appear from out of the gloom
the queue just gets longer,
Number 76 to my destination
is running late (Again)!

© Harry J Horsman 2012