Witch's Mist

Gold cherry

By Ewan

Sun, 13 Nov 2022
  • 1502 reads
6 comments
 

In the park, trees disappear

in the witch's mist

and the sepulchrous dawn.

Upward. Upward,

toward the top,

as any Pennine ridge is called.

 

The trees and the rock and the mist

bring memories of the Harz

and the whiff of ginger,

as if Hansel is around the corner.

 

Down, down

to the vale and the town:

 

Arachne's dreamcatcher

condenses the witch's mist

and droplets hang jewel-like

in webs spun between schoolyard railings

Certificate U
Poem
Gathered Flowers
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by skinner_jennifer on

Loved this poem with all its descriptive images.

Jenny.

 

Submitted by sean mcnulty on

Mysterious, fascinating. This is our Sunday Pick. Please share and retweet!

 

Submitted by Insertponceyfre... on

I love the idea of it being called a witch's mist - and it's particularly odd this year because it's so warm, yet still autumnal - feels wrong! Congratulations on the golden cherries Ewan

 

Submitted by Di_Hard on

loved "Arachne's dream catcher" and the contrast with "school yard railings"

 

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

Gives the feeling of steady toiling where little visible, up and then down. And the fairly sudden dispersal of the mist with the lovely drops making the webs visible, as caught in the photo.

Remember going up Cater Idris in a rather thick mist, and deciding we'd better go down, not try the Fox's path in it, and the mist suddenly clearing a thrid of the way down with glorious clear far views. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by marandina on

"...and droplets hang jewel-like

in webs spun between schoolyard railings"

Love the meshing of fantasy and urban in this. You have an eye for creative thoughts when out on your walks, Ewan..