Lonely Mist by L. M. Montes

The mist crept forward over the lake,
hovering like a protective angel.
All stood quiet but for a babbling,
talking brook.

Lake Fanny Hoe,
a wilderness though she be,
beheld an emptiness of people life,
a silent hush.

Wind whispered through the trees
leaves of giant green masses as they
flex their brownish bark muscles,
regal and tall.

Behind closed eyes blissful peacefulness
in every way wanders wayward
among this nature’s haven,
soft and smooth.