At dawning day
among the Kansas highlands
pools gradually appear
floating slowly, gently, lightly
between low rolling hills
swirling whitely, lapping
the bases of a starkly dark
oak here and an elm there
and spreading across
the highway with fingers
of translucent light
not quite reaching the other side
before my suburban splashes
through them without
the joyous sounds of splash
since it’s not actually water
just low lying vaporous fog
Advertisements
