In the Mist

In the mist, M. Mair, original art

In the Mist, Margaret Mair, original art.

Trees are gentled
By the mist,
Small sad leaves
Hanging dark and dripping
From wet, black branches.
They grew hopeful green
Fooled by a
Strange warmth in
The February days,
By a quickly withdrawn
Promise of almost-spring
In that strange season
When winter lurks
Around the corners
Of every warmer day
And hides frozen and snowy
In the dark length
Of every falling night.
We thaw, we freeze
Sun shines, snow falls,
Mist cloaks the skies;
And in such odd
Almost gentle moments
We glimpse the wild ways
That shape the seasons
Of our lives.

Written by Margaret Mair
Picture, original art by Margaret Mair

6 responses to “In the Mist

  1. Lovely poem and art piece, Margaret. 🙂

  2. I love the way this poem starts with the ‘gentling’ of the trees before you go on to capture just the way February is with your words and misty drawing.

    • Margaret Mair

      To start again: I was looking at trees when the words came to me. I’m glad those words spoke to you. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Andrea.

  3. Wow. Beautiful. No wonder good poets make good novelists – the description is divine.

    • Margaret Mair

      Thank you, Cynthia. Though I’m glad that poems are usually much shorter than novels. Of course as soon as I say that exceptions spring to mind…

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