Musings in the mist

In the the winter months it seems

There is more of silence inside

The house because the fans are off,

You could maybe hear the dew fall

If it does not come down so quietly

The cool weather favours quietness

One silence encourages more silence 

The rare mist brings forth reverence

Music seems like another form of silence

It is more mellifluous with the many violins

And voices sounding like springing from

Realms not accessible in warmer times

Reality is altered at night and street lights

Wear halos not normally seen when sober

Crickets begin to be heard and the ears

Remember the happy songs of the past

When there was hope and death too far.