Fog comes to dance
Upon the vines in dawn’s embrace,
A misty waltz begins to trace.
Through rows of slumbering grape and leaf,
The fog arrives, a silver thief.
It twirls and leaps with nimble grace,
A ghostly dancer, soft of face.
It whispers secrets, cold and bright,
Then wraps the vines in veils of white.
The vineyard shivers, yet it beams,
Cradled in the fog’s cool dreams.
Tendrils curl and pirouette,
A fleeting, playful silhouette.
Oh, joyful fog, so light and fine,
Dancing ‘round each frozen vine.
Though winter holds the earth in chill,
The mist moves on, yet lingers still.
With laughter hushed and steps so fleet,
It kisses frost with breath so sweet.
Then bids adieu as morning glows,
And up with sunlight, softly goes.
