It is still down here
where mists curl round the trees
and people sleep in early morning dim
their rhythmical breath
as turning in their beds
they sigh
at winter's darkness
long into the day
while up there near the sky
clouds do their morning dance
the summits catching on the damp
and tossing it
they watch in stoic still
movements in and out and through
as life unfolds
to fold again and dissipate like dew

Margaret Ann Waddicor 5th December 2015 C