September Mist
A dampness hangs over the sleepy valley
Heads in beds still slumber as dawn breaks
The sound of a bellowing bull breaks the silence
A muffled sound whose direction is unclear
Then stillness returns
Who would rise and peer into the haze
Walk upon the dewy grass
Listening to bird songs in the air
As the sun at last burns through
Away from the choking city streets
I can celebrate each day anew
Copyright: David Hopcroft October 2024
Park Bench Tales and other writings 