Poetry of Issue #7        Page 23

Morning Mist

Pond's pale spirit
hovers. An aged
gray too frail to last,
between a deep
blank sky and a still
reflective sheen,
thin enough to elude
gravity. Water
whispers at dawn
before day's loud
rays disperse this
pause, this morning
transcendence
revealed, reborn.

  Richard Dinges, Jr.