Soft Morning Fog
It is a chill windy morning Between the east Kentucky hills The faint, barely there scent of a looming storm Mixes with the heavy maple notes Wafting from the main street diner The sun has risen somewhere But she is unseen Still concealed by the mountains Or veiled by the whispery morning fog I am walking to work When I walk out at the end of the day, This world will have changed again I linger I take in the quiet morning I appreciate it. Then I walk inside.