Faint lines evenly divided
the morning mist
reminding me of the lines
on staff paper, waiting
for the composer’s
song to dot its
blank lines and spaces-
Or the lines in my journal
waiting for words to
fill its blank pages

A composition of melody
and harmony working
through dissonance-
A story of life and love
acknowledging the roles
of grief and loss

I’ve never considered
any possible purpose
for the morning mist
except blurring vision
and slowing travel

Perhaps today, it was
waiting for me, curious
what I would place on
its lines and in its spaces

Whether I will allow dissonance
to permeate my day, or
be peacefully resolved
in the ebb and flow
of another day