There the mist that mornin’ helt

Taken ‘way by mid-day’s swelt

Bowed and crouched and waited knelt,

Upon the blued and crisped dry air

Hidin’ without devotion there

Poised to shroud in dawn light’s care,

Upon the night and darkness quelt

Waitin’ and hidin’ on restlessness felt

There certain of future’s fare;

Certain of nature’s temperament bare.

by John Patrick Seekamp  2013