After Four Days of Rain

A change of seasons.

The smoke is gone, replaced by mists along the river. The mornings are darker and more mysterious.

early mists swirl around red-barked trees as
white fingers of liquid cold rush over glistening stone beds.
the woods are made small by fog, bound and softened,
and the river god rises from the waters, a mist
brooding, breaking watery bonds.
in its presence, all is diminished and hushed.
the rock spires and fallen trees, wet and touched by
tendrils of damp smoke.
delicate, inquisitive,
the river god caresses and woos the somber woods.