Fog encumbers the hills as it cleaves to the pasture.
Sunrise viewed from heaven, only memory here.
Scarce sunlight penetrates the heavy veil.
Like a thick curtain hung in the parlor to dispel the light,
the fog hangs in the valleys,
using the trees for its curtain rod.
Headlights attempt to shine down the lane,
tiny beam to illuminate a path.
A newborn calf bawls for his mama,
she drinks from the pond shrouded in white.