mist fashions

in the hills
the trees wear mist shawls
draped over their bony shoulders
tucked up to their lichen covered ears

in the valleys
the trees wear mist skirts
dragging low on the ground
wrapped round stiff legs that ache with cold

by the sea
the trees wear mist burqas
covered up from head to toe
angles softened and precious buds hid safe


the change in season
poetically addressed
such a glut of words
we must make word jam
as colours change
and forests blaze

here mid bryn and cwm
and enveloping coedwig
change cannot be missed
daily journey painted
more brightly every day
slows us down to stare

it would be remiss
not to note the change
from summer to autumn
like ignoring a baby
crying in the night
unthinkable, unkind

my thoughts of course
return to love and how
as seasons change outside
so too my heart is changing
new warmth and light glow
as fiery passions burn bright

my soul now bared
like the trees soon will be
nestles cosy with yours
as nights draw in
and changes snowball
into a future all brand new


A Little Note
I live in Wales, UK, and a little Welsh made its way into this poem. I’m not a Welsh speaker, but know a few words here and there.
bryn = hill
cwm = valley
coedwig = forest