The Mist of Memories: A Prose-Poem

The heat of the land lifted into the air

Photo by Patrick Hendry on Unsplash

Driving through sleet but there’s a mist of memories before me — the heat of the land lifted into the air, partially clouding the vision — I am trying to be quiet: and the figure of the waiting.

This low cloud is misting my face now — my eyes are grateful for the dark grey of the day — I know what light I want…