Nature’s Morning Mask
Fog is nature’s morning mask,
a visage never meant to last.
Mountains rise above its sea,
and treetops swim in sanctity.
Fields are quenched by downy dew,
as soft hands press clean sheets anew.
Creatures rest in hidden sight,
this masquerade may change their plight.
Calmly will our thoughts descend,
if left to settle absent wind.
Sunny rays may burn the veil,
what’s left exposed will write our tale.
Mark Strohschein is a Washington state poet who lives on Whidbey Island. His work is forthcoming in Flint Hills Review, Barren Magazine, Cosmic Double, Red Fern Review and Main Street Rag. His poems have also appeared in Lips Poetry Magazine, In Parentheses and an anthology, Dulce Poetica.
Grand Little Things 