Watching tree limbs bask in the morning fog

Their own shadows hidden from naked eye

We, the observer might question why

Silence in storms, listen a croaking frog.

A world exists speak natural balance

Deep in the wood, horrors of life aside

Humanity breathe where watcher reside

A home is habitat for those who chance.

While just beyond the gravel road and pond

Live a lifetime in tragic element

Lost souls, lost loves, confusion we lament

Evil is conflict arisen but fond

We mourn sweet soul, tragic is sudden death

In the cool dense fog, take solace in breath.

© Thom Amundsen 2019