A mountain sits in the mist
Shrouded
It is strong
Obscured
It's serenity is unchanged
Invisible
It's joy is plain to see
A tree stands alone
Stark against the swirling tendrils
True structure laid bare
Jagged against the soft light
All is as it is meant to be
Fe Robinson, 2012
I found this poem a short while ago, and it spoke to me of winter and of misty mornings, and of the sense that what is seen is not all that there is to see, there is always more.
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