22 October – Season of mists

The mists have returned to their old thieving ways,
kidnapping the moors, keeping them captive for days.
The tops have been exchanged for a thick damp haze
which shrouds out everything but close, cold greys.
Mists are lauded by romantics for their air of mystery
but their weeping, creeping gloom forces me into retreat.
I flick every switch to flood my world with light,
hoping for bluer skies tomorrow, or even frost’s first bite.
Mischievous murk, please return my upward view,
I want to look to the hills rather than only seeing you.
Lift! Leave! Evaporate! Unhang your encroaching cloud!
Let the sunshine in again. Please. Soon. Somehow.

22 October - Season of mists...