Mist and Moon

MIST AND MOON The other night She woke up with a start As she felt something soft Touch her sleeping heart. The dark room was awash In a milk-white diffusion. She wasted no time--- The door opened and shut, And her grey robe wrapped around She gingerly stepped out To stare at the sombre moon. Her breathing brought a whiff Of the grass in the fields nearby, And the trees in the woods a little more distant... It was the tangy smell of the wintry mist Quietly descending, or was it rising from the soil? Details of the land smudged, The mist was painting a picture in sepia, With the halo around the indulgent moon Smiling a quiet, mystic smile! The mist and the moon, and An unseen owl's occasional melancholy hoot... Enchantment held her in an enchanted thrall... THE END Sharmila Mitra 30 August 2021 Rights to the poem reserved