Mist

The mist moved across the field
swallowing up everything in its path.
A white blanket that hovered
inches above the ground.
It came in the cool of dawn
and vanished like a ghost
near the beginning of the day.
While it stayed, you could not see
anything within a foot of thee.
The mist that came like a sleeking ghost
was now gone after being hit
by the rays of the morning sun.

27 September 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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