Some mornings

the mist comes down,
rolls from the high land
where the sun peers, cool gold

through a spray of surf, pearl
ocean vapour, and behind,
the glorious blue stretches,

unmarked, unribbed and silent.

Maymist8

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

16 thoughts on “Some mornings”

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