Cold grey mist hanging
In the morning air
Iciness chills the very
Marrow of the bones
Waiting for the sun
To leave its cozy lair
Its lethargy in rising
Cannot be condoned
Slowly the sun ascends
Offering meager heat
Lifting the temperature
Albeit without pace
Sluggishly forcing
The mist to retreat
Exposing a day
Of beauty and of grace
