White water towers protrude through
Early morning mist searching for blue
Skies and yellow morning light.

Cool earth left from a night
Of open windows and drawn quilts
Has like webs of spider's silks
Enveloped both man and beast
And blocked the dawning east
Till on up into the day.

Slowly motorists find their way
As inside a misted warren
Edged by dripping fields of corn,
Lawns and vague, ghostly forms
Of homes, stores and shadowy trees.

Then silently in an effort to set free
Those caught up in this foggy snare
Streams of light like strands of hair
Illuminate somewhat the scene.
Man no longer hung between
The nether world and web
As mist has fallen into ebb
Begins a quickened pace.

Now the tense, strained face
Can once again discern
Things of major concern.
Now eyes behold what mind
Could only supply the blind
From memory and from rote;
From instinctual note.