In the still of the night
Fog crept in with soft grey light
Settling over the land with a fine mist
Soft as a gentle kiss.

Sharp angles are softened by the grey mist
As if by an artist's stroke
So I see none of the flaws
And look at the beautiful view as through smoke
Breathing in peace as I stand there in awe.

Through the mist of fog I see
Only what is before me.
The distant future I see only a hint of what is to come
But, content I will be with what is at hand
And worry not about what I cannot understand.

Jane Ward Smith©
May 6, 2006
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