This is Thanksgiving Weekend in Canada and I should probably be posting an overtly thankful poem. Let this be its substitute, for it sings the praises of some of the things for which I am most thankful: the ability to walk, beautiful places to walk, someone to walk with, fall colours, fall mists, the Creator who has designed the cycling of the seasons and this most gorgeous one.
This poem is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Patricia Stohr-Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect.
Violet Nesdoly 
Beautiful!
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Ditto!
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Love those ‘mist-dries’ Violet. I caught a picture when I was in Pennsylvania of a most misty morning, but we have them rarely in Colorado. Happy Thanksgiving!
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Thank you, Linda! We seem to get a lot of mist and fog in the autumn and winter months. Maybe it’s our coastal location. It’s pretty and “mist”erious.
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Beautiful, Violet. Love the second stanza especially, with the “sheerest of gauze” and those “mist-eries.” Happy Thanksgiving!
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Lovely, Violet. You really bring us into this moment. Your description of the poem and what you are thankful for is almost a poem itself! Happy Thanksgiving.
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So beautiful, Violet. Happy Thanksgiving to you!
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Such imaginative word choice. Happy Thanksgiving.
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Gorgeous, Violet! “Wrapped in the sheerest of gauze” – amazing autumnal description. =)
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Violet, this poem speaks of such a different type of fall than I am used to so thank you for that wonderful image. I love the play on words at the end. I share your thanks this fall weekend by thanking you for such a visual offering. Would you consider placing this poem and image in the Finding Fall Gallery that I will showcase near the close of this season?
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Thanks so much, Carol. I will add my poem to your Fall Gallery. Thanks for the invite!
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Love that ending!
Happy Fall and Happy Thanksgiving!
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I love the image of the sum dreaming “palely down.” The light is really like that now. The poem is lovely, and does offer thanks for blessings all around us. Happy Thanksgiving, Violet. Heal well!
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Lovely!
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Nice wordplay in the last line, Violet! This poem feels like it might have happened after the pre-sunrise lunar eclipse last week.
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If only it were such an exotic time, Laura! I missed that eclipse, and fog was to blame.
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