Fog on the Hills

Fog shrouds the edges of the rocks

masking broken edges of pain filled hollows

as the predators flow down the slope toward their kill

and the daisies in the meadow below

haven't a care in the world...

all their needs are tended

by Nature.

The same killer that wakes the wolves,

that gives fear to the deer,

that shapes the rocks,

that fills the edges of the Valley with fog...

Fog floating over the hillsides.

Clouds, lowering onto the points of the mountains

give birth to rain

that nourishes the plants and the animals

that gather below in the growing shade of the clouds.

The clouds part, the stars sparkle above

the whole world seems to be in love.

Then a lightning bolt splits the sky

and the clouds begin to cry...

great tears splashing on the ground...

in the Spring, green plants will abound.

Snow on the hillsides above the swamp,

the ground down below is damp,

the plants — short and tall — all around,

like boggy ground, and soggy soil.