Scotch Mist

Disappeared from vision

In the haar that rolled swift in,

Muting voice and mission

Stranded chill upon your skin.

Scotch mist, though descended

In the valleys and the glens,

Retreats to sea but dampness

Clings to clothes of men.

Though rare, in all its heat,

Is the sun that warms our shores,

It ever rises, resurrected,

Clears, with light, heals sores.

15 thoughts on “Scotch Mist”

      1. I’m starting to fear that a new laptop purchase is on the horizon. And considering the bills that are rolling in post-vacay… ugh. Fingers crossed I can make this old beast hold in a little longer… xo

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      2. Oh no, I hate that. All that checking of stats and trying to figure out what spec you actually need. Mine isn’t even all that old, less than a year, and I did all the checking and comparing and it’s still a pain at times. I want a personal shopper for computer buying. Well, for any sort of buying, actually. 🙂

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  1. Very nice momus. Beautifully brings you into the land of mist. For a minute there, when I read the title, I had visions of a view from the bottom of a bottle. Wrong mist, I thought maybe you’d got into politics again 🙂

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    1. All life is politics, Mark, to some degree or other. Unfortunately so, unless we remember the Greek polis = people. We don’t call whiskey scotch. 🙂 Though it can induce mists if taken liberally. Not here, not tonight. 😉

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  2. Oh dear, I hadn’t seen any of your wonderful poetry pop up on my reader in quite a while so I checked my bookmark and it seems I accidentally unfollowed you. I apologize, I have refollowed and I look forward to more of your beautiful words.

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