Rime in Time

Daily Note

Every day, a photograph, a poem. On Sunday the fog retreated, brushing winter’s landscape with icy crystals. This freezing fog ice is called rime.

Rime in Time

Slowly creeping away,
Fog leaving a trace
Of where it slept
Now ice is kept
As crystals white
A sagebush sight
For winter’s brush
A silent hush
When fog slips away
Only rime will stay.

Sheri Edwards
012422 024.365.22
Poetry/Photography

1051 days of posts in a row