The air shimmers,

The air shimmers,

A wispy wraith,

All twist and curl.

Slow to reappear,

As the black top heat haze

Starts to rise,

Image coalescing.

A new

Pronouncement.

An early morning

Sacred beam,

A shaft, that spears

An empty sky

And flares,

As though to start a fire,

To burn the creeping

Ghostly mist,

That hangs by night,

And flees, with daylight

Fast approaching.

A diminished presence.

The damp and fetid

Fog retreats,

To bide itself,

In nook and dale,

Until the night comes by,

To give it strength again.

Like ancient myth

Of days long gone,

When fear of night

And noxious haze

Was written into

Tales and song.

Of journeys home,

To warm hearths

Hail and hearty welcome,

Of lamps,

That shine so bright

In curtained pane.

Guiding lights,

That lead us fair,

To keep us safe,

Till dawn has cracked,

And mists of eventide

Have found a place

To hide,

And sleep the day away.