FOG'S BRUSH
You know the mist that hangs its nests
Along the rolling hills
You know the fog
Like a pure white log
That flows down the valley floor
And wraps its vest
Like a sheer curtain guest
Around the cabin door.
You know the spells
That fog can sell
On mornings without a sunrise
With hands so soft
To carry aloft
Merlin's mythic legends
When you become the canvas and the fog becomes the brush
When all the world takes the time to observe a silent hush
When you alone
Behold the zone
That walks with you
That stalks with you
A magical moving boundary.
An earth bound cloud
Merlin's shroud
That stops the world from spying
The sun will likely break this spell
Where elves and hobbits surely dwell
For now there is another point appearing
So I will let the fog do the steering