The Parting of the Myst

The morning dew is rising
from the mysts of who knows where.
My sweetheart’s now gone fishing
through the mysts – how does he dare
To go without a wonder
of the sleeping world beneath
the myst upon the waking lake
where Viviane may rest.

The dew now rises sideways
as if headed for the sea
But the sea is far away from here
I quest to know the truth.
“The forest round the lake
drinks up this mysty brew
to quench the thirst of faeries
elves and dragonflies…..you knew!”

The loons begin their mournful song
Oh, mournful but to me!
They sing in joy and playful bliss.
They coo in reveree
of the clear clean lake,
the morning myst,
their understanding of the rippling wall
between the worlds of up and down
They live in balance, half in each
fearless of both.

I chuckle now at yet another
lesson from the Earth.
So many times I’ve queried
in this walk and many others.
My questions all are answered
from within …. So many births!

The lake, the trees, the forest call –
my sisters and my brothers;
The stones and plants on forest floor
There are so many others
I have yet to meet, to know and
hear their stories
of times we’ve walked together.
I lose myself in traveling toward their song.

The lake is now sunlit, glistening with gold.
The story of lakeside sunrise is told.
“But just in tiny part!”, they scold.
And I, with elation, so blessed by this sharing
Am humbled, moved, filled - yet again
by the parting of the myst!

Wendy Snow Fogg

August 16, 2005
Bow Lake ~ New Hampshire