12 November – Grey play

I usually view mist as a stealer of sights,
a dampener of colour; a duller of light,
a smothering enemy of diversion and delight.
But today’s fog gives me cause to reassess this view
as although it’s absolutely dimming every hue,
it’s also making masterpieces from all-day dew.
Each spider’s weaving is outlined with watery gems
revealing high tightrope paths, and full, storybook webs,
and little liquid fairy lights gleam on every twig’s end.
Then from deep in the gloom comes a donkey’s bray,
like a phantom’s scream piercing through the grey –
if I didn’t know better, I’d expect foul play.
As it is, after the shock, it makes me laugh
when this sudden crazy sound penetrates the murky path,
like the whole wild world is speaking up on my behalf.
It seems then that even mist and fog can play their part
in creating show-stoppers of brand new natural art,
which means even the bleakest days can still lift my heart.