The Way of The Mist

Evidence of last night's rain hung on my window 

One last droplet 

On the last day of the year 

I fall into wonder 

Gloom settles over the morning 

But all is not gray 

Out of the mist, fog creeps 

All things serve their time 

Out of the mist 

Slowly, comes the sun 

Unhurried 

The ordinary captures me into whimsy 

All things serve their purpose 

The sound of the bell tower 

Madre’s chili against a rare California winter 

Drives across the country roads where the path is silent 

But God is not. 

Along the mist 

Wind moves 

All of December is removed from my home 

I look out the same window 

But there is a new light 

All things serve a role 

I wait for the after 

There is always an after…

After the mist 

Come new dreams 

We rise 

Where there are new dreams, there is new work 

Happy New Year