Missed.

Missed.

There’s a missing, in mist.

But the beauty lies in what’s not seen, scene, known.

What I look for, is what’s not there.

But what is there, but not seen.

There’s something beneath. All ways.

That’s what I look for.

Where sky meets water, mist conjoins, miracle — redound.

—-

waves come back
—-

[Origin: 1350 1400; ME redounden < MF redonder < L redundāre to overflow, equiv. to red- red- + undāre to surge (deriv. of unda wave; cf. undulate); cf. redundant]

This entry was posted in Diary. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.