Dawn in Late Fall
Dawn in late fall
The time when street-side forms
Begin to take amorphous shape
But you must still strain your sight
Through the low-lying fog
To make out what is there.
In the close horizon,
Pockets of that deceptive fog
Nestles between hills – and mimics them –
Suggesting undulating foothills
Over the still-sleeping crops.
Remember, substance is not yet a solid knowing.
It will be over half an hour yet
When sunshine will burn off
The deceptions and mind-tricks
It will be the growing light
That will reveal true shapes.
Remember, sometimes not knowing is best.