There was a light ground fog this morning, with mist on the lake. A faint breeze was moving the water just enough to force the mist to swirl up in gauzy columns. The light from the rising sun played off them as they moved over the surface. Some stood up, tall and independent; others stayed low and joined with their brothers to swirl together in a ghostly spiral dance.
The sun rose higher, the lake warmed up and the ghosts went away. It was just a trick of temperature, humidity and dust in the air—one routine act in the endless magic show the planet puts on. But I couldn’t look at it without seeing the spirits dancing. I would never want to.
Photo by Mila Zinkova from Wikimedia Commons.
2 comments:
What a beautiful post. My soul needed that little jolt today.
Thanks, Mary. I thought of you when I wrote it. You would have enjoyed the show, too.
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