Foggy Mist

I adore the fog and mist. I love driving down on a sunday morning for church, where it is a quiet sunrise as we leave, in the valley pocket of our home, climbing to the top of the road we drive. The shadows begin to fade and give way to the beauty of the day as the creatures stir. We go along the dirty, red road and find our way to the highway, watching the clouds to see where they have settled, or whether they will depart. The blue of sky and soft, misty clouds swirl, like they did this morning.

The thick and moving mist is filled with heavy sleep which clings to its body. Some places it is so thick, you cannot see but ten feet in front of you. Wrapped in this foggy mist, there is little else to notice and such is life, at times. The quietude and timeless state of the moment overcomes most any other thought or sensation. As we journey on, we nearly burst into clear air and are submerged into the depths beneath the clouds and the day that is given to the greater valley below.

Such beauty.