The rain goes on,
pattering, awash,
in glistening ribbons
along the road
…and the mist moans,
melancholy, as it drifts
against her chin and holds
for a moment of peace,
but then is thrown
into swirls, by a quick turn
of her reddened cheek.
In the distance, the storm groans.
Resounding, thunder,
to match the mane
the mist mustered,
to enshroud
the strange lady
of the road.
Then, like the rain,
she was gone.
© CG Tenpenny, 2021.
