in the mist

Lake Louise Mist by Andrea Schafthuizen

in the mist 

from the fallen book, pages flutter in the mist,

chimes scatter as wisps of straw in raw wind

as the child lies curved in sleep around the

tattered edge of his mother’s skirted hem

swollen lips lifted in sweet smiled sleep – 

as the chimes, the chimes, coalesce and carry

them clear -  past the sooted mirror of today

into the vast possibility of tomorrow

shimmering as light bounces joyfully from

golden scale to golden scale on

the gleaming body of mystic Ilsebill’s fish

rising, regal, real and majestic from a cerulean sea

listening 

to each innocent, exhaled breath 
each unwhispered wish 
about to be fulfilled