Morning Steam Fog On the Pond
On my morning drive
when the steam fog
rising off the pond
in the still air
hangs out to play tag
with the rising sun,
I’m mesmerized.
Strata of layered mists,
like stacked flat
bunk bed sheets, linger.
Steam-swirls of my
fresh-ground coffee
rise up, fleeting,
against the windshield
to glimpse other
vapors vanishing
into thin air.
The long pond grasses glistening with dew,
shallows rippling
with flitting fishes,
bring cottontails
and wading birds
to nibble at the edges
of a world
teeming with life.
I sit at the stop sign
admiring the view
until someone pulls up
behind me
urging me along.
More than I will ever see
this picture of tranquility,
I feel it deep in my soul.
Common Threads 
Kim, this is lovely. I miss my morning drive and the mountain scenery. I love the ending of your poem, the feeling of nature that sustains us. The image of coffee steam commingling w/ pond steam offers a wonderful juxtaposition of our inherent unity with the world. I’m having a Monday and find your poem calming and cathartic. Thank you.
LikeLike
Thank you, Glenda! I hope your Monday gets better. A little Snug and Puck time ought to do the trick!
LikeLike
I have often wanted to stop and photograph the mists rising from ponds along the route of my drive to work – it's a glorious sight, mesmerizing and tranquil, as you convey so beautifully in your images here. Even a brief sighting does fill the soul with peace. So beautiful, Kim.
LikeLike