I open the window
the mist rolls in off the sea
sweeping like a fluffy blanket
pity hasn't keep the sea warm
there is no horizon, it's the same
just white, misty vision.
The air is biting
so cold it stings my skin
rushing in like an unwelcome visitor
there is no horizon it's the same
just a milky opaque sight.
The beam from the lighthouse
sprays LED sparkles on the waves
it dances with the movement of the sea
jigging, squirting froth forward
ebbing and flowing
coming and going.
There is a distance in the air
a quiet , a silence now.
The atmosphere changes
brightens, clouds are apparent
moving, clearing,
and out comes the sun.