Mist

By John I. Blair

I praise that my life has had the grace
Of dazzling sun and crystal skies,
Fresh prairie winds and open space.

But my fathers for ten thousand years
On murky moors and stony coasts
Guarded their doors from misty fears.

I think their ghosts are in my soul
Beyond repair and bring despair
On days when I am less than whole.

©2002 John I. Blair

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