Monday, December 7, 2015

Monday WRites 40

image from google dot com

MIST
There is a mist, settled over the mountain
A soft rain whispers a song of early morning
All of sweet dew, drooping palms to pertain
In the street a pigeon struts her nonchalance
Not many faces turn to look over the mountain
The start of a new work week embraces so many
Umbrellas will greet the drizzle, clouds contain
Commuter or driver, yet to wrestle traffic peaks
Surly Monday tempers, in decent hearts amounting
Fit the iterate fate, of facing a weekend ended
There goes the mist now, rising over the mountain
MIST © gillena cox 2015

SmileyCentral.com

You've heard about the Monday Blues ❧✿❧ well this is Monday WRites ( musing on the definition here of rite, as any customary observance or practice eg the rite of afternoon tea).
Welcome to Monday WRites #40, ❧✿❧ whats your mood today ❧✿❧ I invite you to link in with one of your WRites




Imaginary Garden With Real Toads
linking to also to The Tuesday Platform


14 comments:

  1. Well written mood of a beginning week.
    I like the mists...
    Have a good time

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  2. You've captured that Monday morning angst in a nutshell. Not many people are looking at the mountains...that seems to be reserved for the weekend. Here they are just intent upon getting to work on time. Nicely done, Gillena!

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    1. Thanks for your appreciation Timoteo

      Much love...

      Delete
  3. I was there, Gillena, you did it so well. Being retired, I was watching it a combination on TV and from out my window. TV tells me of the fog, though I can see it streaming across the streetlight on the street next over, over the houses; the traffic in panoramic views from Web cams and helicopter cameras, average of six accidents at any given rush five-hour window; and a good review of the weekend events and the killings, way too many. Out the window I see the wild little rabbit foraging for food before the kids are out jump into the pool, the fog starting to lift or blow out to sea (80 miles to our southeast); the garbage trucks picking up the weekend trash; and the kids climbing up onto their school buses or the parent honking a car horn to announce they have come as driver this week for the neighbor kids.
    That is how it is living in a suburb two miles west of Houston, Texas, city limits. Even the rabbit is hurrying and scurrying not knowing it is Monday so that the kids don't come during school season.
    Galveston is more like yours except no mountains, instead the beach.
    BTW, my SIL is in Trinidad this week, half business and half family visiting at Christmas time.
    ..

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    1. Thanks for your appreciation Jim. Hope your relatives are having a very nice Trini Christmas

      Much love...

      Delete
  4. Ah.. that Monday blues.. like the water that clings in my hair a certain weight.. yes I cannot feel that mist..

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    1. Thanks for your appreciation Bjorn

      Much love...

      Delete
  5. I like the story told here in details. Thanks, mosk

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    1. Thank you for dropping in Mosk

      Much love...

      Delete
  6. Love this, Gillena. I have a mountain here and always notice its mist or whatever else is going on with it... though the rush of work-week certainly tries to keep us from observing. Very nice poem, I really enjoyed it.

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    Replies
    1. Thank you for your appreciation Marian

      much love...

      Delete