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.
Copyright © Rick Howarth | Year Posted 2017
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment