the mist, or is it cloud,
inching to find my sight
pushes its way between
still and soldier like height

thick at times and translucent
the fog follows the birds
listens to the sun and bellows
under the moon, hoping to be heard

watching it is like looking at ghosts
swimming over tree tops,
walking on water, floating below
mountains, at ease, drifting white blankets

from afar it sends an ethereal calming,
quieting down the fire in the city,
glad it decided to sedate the noise
steeping its feet around the streets

here and down low it’s today’s show
I wish I was closer, so I could breathe it in
and feel the layers on my skin
peeling away my sight and direction

but for now I’ll just admire it as it
changes and grows and flows
feeding the flora and following delicately
the advice of the leaves and the bees