The shapes of mist portent a lesser woe; <br />Breath of earth, they smile to fade away <br />And half-design a wisdom angels know. <br /> <br />In mornings when the moon dishevels low, <br />Skating on the secret lake’s display, <br />The shapes of mist portent a lesser woe. <br /> <br />The wide-eyed barkings of the dying crow <br />Creep the stillness in the bayor’s day <br />And half-design a wisdom angels know. <br /> <br />In figures not quite frozen and aglow; <br />Esteemed and then forgotten, to allay <br />The shapes of mist portent a lesser woe. <br /> <br />The eastern waves, which through wild meadows go, <br />Howl silently for life and unchanged clay <br />And half-design a wisdom angels know. <br /> <br />Feeling for the branches that can grow <br />When neurons wander lost along their way, <br />The shapes of mist portent a lesser woe <br />And half-design a wisdom angels know.<br /><br />Sean Godley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-shapes-of-mist-portent-a-lesser-woe/
