Beneath grey globules of suspended mist,
in her callow youth and nakedness,
Spring is waiting to be dressed.
Her limbs are undernourished, scraggy and bare
under the winding cloth of winter,
as yet no flowers in her hair.
We are drawn to the warmth of her exhaled air,
her scent of early blooming heather
and snowdrops hanging there,
a curtain between the dying winter world and this
dewy dispersion, this morning mist,
waiting for a taste of Spring’s first kiss.
Kim M. Russell, 2017
My response to Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Tale weaver/ Fairy Tale 23/2/17 Beyond the Veil of Mist
Weave a tale in which you venture beyond the veil of mist. You may use it as a means to weave a tale of wonder, of mystery, of fear, of joy, of adventure, so allow your creative mind to take you someplace fantastical.