Somehow, the mist reveals
deeper contours hidden here,
this many folded land
I have loved for all my adult life,
though now I see it for the first time,
new lines appearing in shadow form
from soft grey gliding in,
galvanized by the cold sea.

So strange, to see what obscures
as carrier of a new clarity,
another shade of feeling into
these fields, these fluid
hills and valleys of a place
called home.

The way it all relates
lays my mind to rest,
for here it knows only and simply
its own insufficiency to hold
something as holy as how mist
illuminates krans and curve
without capturing anything,
even the dull light, some of which
moves through, some of which
reflects a scene I have not ever seen
though I have been looking intently.

Now, set free from long vigil,
I float with this soft sky river,
evaporating in the grand cycle
when our sun returns, somehow.