August 21st

Morning fog is common in the hills and valleys of Western New York State. Sometimes it lies in the low places like fat pillows. At other times the low places are clear, but the hilltops are shrouded with it. I always enjoyed the opportunity to walk in it and to watch the sun’s warmth steal it away and bring the freshness of morning awake. Somehow it always made me think of my God and His wise conservation of all parts of Creation.

MORNING FOG
A morning fog hangs o’er the world
Like yards of lace all damp unfurled.
I feel my cheek with dampness kissed
As tendrils rise from out the mist.

I am alone in Nature’s shroud,
Where every footfall echoes loud
Against the wall formed deep and white
As veil to keep the day from night.

Along the forest path I tramp
The trees stand bowed with heavy damp
As if in grief that night must pass
When sunbeams sparkle on wet grass.

Then white swirls thin and finally part
As stillness fades and song birds start.
Sun traps each drop, in cool night born,
To save and use another morn.

Prayer: Dear God, help me to see Your wisdom in all things. Thank You for the loveliness and the order of Your world.