The mist that lingers on the sloping hill,
slides down to pool and hide the town below
Slaking each flower and leaf till it descends,
to kiss the the gnarled root and rippled rill.
Then morning sun’s kiss raises
It once more,
to wash the dusty air and weave white fleece,
To paint cloud’s cooling shadows
on the air.
and bring with dusk the coming evening’s grace
I seek that shade in moving through my tasks,
And wipe my labors moisture from my face,