"The past can't see you, but the future is listening." ~Destin Figuier

Soft light,
diffused and filtered,
From unseen source.
Sounds,
scents,
magnified
With mystic force.

Hanging low
in morning calm,
The fog’s
soft cloak.
Drifting out
from perch unseen,
A raven’s croak.

Breathless,
over water’s surface,
Our wake’s soft voice.
Magic silence,
guarded safely,
The paddlers’ choice.

Heading in to crescent shoreline,
Now close at hand.
Softly in the fragile quiet,
Canoe on sand.

Unveiled at last,
the portage trail
Through mist
appears.
Leads to timeless ways of knowing
The spirit
hears.

~poem by Howard Myers