The mists that linger across the moor,
Drifting and swirling above the ground,
Are eerie as they travel around,
Making the landscape so obscure.

But as they rise up sleepy slow,
So gradually the world appears,
Taking away those phantasmic fears,
When recognising the place you know.

With this curtain spread wide, over the land,
Dense space is linked with soundless time,
The cloak released then starts to climb,
Raised up by God's almighty hand.

© Ernestine Northover

Ernestine Northover

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-landscape-so-obscure/