Mist Clearing

Mist lies heavy on the valley, white fingers reaching toward the ridge, erasing everything beyond arm's length.

The morning stretches, patient. A bird calls through the damp— one clear note breaking through.

Then, slowly, the gray unwraps itself. A barn emerges. A fence line. The far hills appear like old memories returning.

What we thought was lost was only hidden. The world was always there, waiting to be seen again.