Ghostly Fingers

Soft and low,

the gray mist covers the sleeping town.

Ghostly fingers curl around,

blanketing all;

wrapping the trees,

and hills beyond.

Damp that coats everything

with tiny droplets of water.

Slowly enveloping buildings

and roads to and from,

the town disappears in a shroud of softness,

that creates an island,

isolated and separated from the rest of the world;

wrapped and protected in the fog.
~k