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
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