Misty Morn

I like the crisp cool mornings
that autumn days can bring,
With promise of a balmy day
to make my glad heart sing.

Today there was a morning fog,
though light as fairy mist,
I found the treasure that it brought
where the river had been kissed.

For all the beauty on it’s banks
had fallen and got wet.
The camera clicked, and clicked again,
So that I would not forget.

C's camera trial 1 (11)C's camera trial 1 (13)


Evening came,
and with gentle strokes
laid colour on the valley.
Smooth grey
over the hills,
Purple swirls
across the mountain,
Fluff of off-white
for the clouds.
While across the flats
of emerald,
she painted black fingers,
reaching out
to cover the rays
of the setting sun.
Quietly she brushed
runs of silver,
dotted with gold,
onto the ripples
of the river.
On every leaf
that faced the west,
she carefully drew
burnished brilliance,
till they danced
as diamonds.
Evening came…
and my heart knew morning!

last rays 2Last rays


Huon River, Tasmania

The trees fall into the river,
There is never a sudden clash,
They slip gently onto the surface
Without the tiniest splash.
The mountains lie quiet in the river,
Till the surface is moved by a breeze,
When without a sound or a warning
They leave with eloquent ease.
E F Woolley©  2013