Morning

The morning mist hangs in the air.
Suspended
Like a still life,
within my still life
Breath goes in. Breath goes out.
Steam rises from the first cup of coffee
And the cold air carries no sound across the field

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s