MISTY WOOD


The mist rolled in, eating away at the edges of the wood. We watched as the landscape began to diminish, folding away, out of sight.
"This is good. I love the mist."
"So do I. It muffles the world for a moment, keeps the outside at bay."
"Yes."
Silence.
The mist quickly rolled across the wood, and we were enveloped.
Hills dissolved into faint shadows, trees became drifting skeletal creatures, moving in and out of focus with the billowing mist. The sound of a birds wing in the air ricocheted across to us and we focused briefly on nothing but that sound.
I put my hand out and let a million tiny drops of water cover every pore of my skin.
"This isn't really mist is it? This is a cloud."
"Yes."
Silence.
I moved my hand around and watched as it glistened with moisture.
"We always think of clouds being dry and fluffy. But they're not."
I put the palm of my hand up to my lips and kissed it. Cool, fresh, wet.
"No."
I stared at my wet hand, as if seeing it for the first time, then let my eyes shift over the misty landscape.
"A world of moisture. Millions and millions of tiny fragments of life."
Silence.
"A wonder."
"What?"
"Clouds are a wonder."
Silence.
"Yes they are."
We sat in the depths of the misted wood and wondered.

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