Misty Day

Misty Day Glancing out of the window I see the potted plant on the sill and the house on the other side of the road… the light is fading and the plant looks as sad as a whitewashed wall in rain… its whiteness was an illusion caused by the sun. Mist of grief encircles olive trees there are blank tears on my almond tree´s spindly twigs, yet inside each droplet I see a tiny world reflecting my own, only with greater incorruptibility of the untested. And far away, as a whisper, a mother sings a lullaby.