One morning in the late fall I was driving on Highway 50 from Folsom to Sacramento in my daily commute. Between Hazel and Sunrise I saw a bank of fog against the cliffs on the North bank of the American River (it is much more built out there now, I doubt if I could have seen it today). I pulled over to the shoulder and wrote this poem. I have always been fond of it.
I welcome your comments and your shares!
This poem is in the collection Poetry's Purpose
Available for Kindle download at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00YX2VZ78
Available in Printed version at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/uicearbhaill
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Wyrmist
Lies
along the river
Obscuring
from my vision
All
the cliffs upon its bank
Mysterious
and smoky,
It
crawls along the wetness
This
Patrick-banished reptile
Windblown,
cold and dank
In
dampness is its spawning ground
Womb
of icy coolness
Sprung
from mystery vapors
With
its scales of dewdrops fine
No
army can withstand it
This
monster mist so ghostly
Enveloping
the conquered
In
another space and time
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