Misty Mountain

I wrote this poem in 1989. I was sitting overlooking a beautiful landscape of mountains beneath in early morn. With the thick mist that covered the mountain forest, from bottom to top, seeing the mist gradually disperse into the atmosphere...what an awesome sight it was.

It was a misty mountain
That let no sunlight pervade its dense cloak of life
Illuminated only by the wet white vapor
That clung to every drooping leaf on clinging vine
And up into the outstretched arms of wooden maidens
Did nature's misty breath grow weak
Where the evergreens' tips of spruce reached for rays of light
That alluded their ominous beneath
Opaque shadows in a landscape of white
Soon to be dispersed in burning atmosphere
Only to impend its shroud again in deceased hours of night
It was a misty mountain

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