The foggy embrace,
hid the face of the mountain
while the raindrops became
teardrops hidden from sight
running down in a hurry and
collected at the toe of the *****,
washing grains of sand and time,
away to the river, older than the
trees that held onto the fog forcing
the embrace without arms but
branches and needles pointing
skyward and leaving a
why word about the fog.


©DWE092013