Sunday, February 27, 2011

Poetry Sunday ~ The Mist

Job 27:88 He bindeth up the waters in his thick clouds; and the cloud is not rent under them.

The Mist 

(c) Joni Zipp

Crossing over the empty field
fingers stretch out like tendrils of vapor.
Prior stalks crept skyward but now
the pasture keeps vigil with the midnight caper.

Creeping, clinging, clawing finding its way;
sauntering, slithering into the life of me
Through the trees soft sworn breeze,
the mindful mist just has to be.

The moisture whispers softly sprinkling
sounds, a hiss, a cool bliss singing;
life is short the fork is swaying
with the earth, all but swinging.

The sun is sneaking silhouette peeking
rays they linger beyond the gist
it is where one day my soul will lay
evaporating as surely will the mist.

All rights reserved: copyright © Joni  Zipp


benning said...

I enjoyed that!

"The moisture whispers softly sprinkling
sounds, a hiss, a cool bliss singing;"


joni said...

Thank you! :D

Mysti said...

Hiya Joni!

Beautiful alliteration, rhyme, and rhythm! What a joy to read with my coffee before we head to church.


Deborah said...


joni said...

*takes a bow*

Thank you! Thank you! It's my dose of joy before church! :)
Glad you enjoyed it!

Anonymous said...

What imagery! WOW! Love the second line...well every line...

This should be set to music...


joni said...

Thanks June,
It is set to my head! :)