Misty Day
Today the mist rules, stolen horizon
in a merge of sea and dank air, sky
confiscated, parcelled in a grey
patination like macular degrade.
Fields and village prematurely aged
to lie in a state of transience,
shrouded in mourning funereal garb
fashioning weighted reverend silence.
Even the rising tide treads quiet
in its take as the pacing frill
of frothed surf whispers a rhythmic lullaby
to the drowsing day beneath its blanket.
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