The mist creeps in softly and tucks my little town in for the evening. I turn my truck off and stand near the pond, listening to the open country. I hear birds rustling their feathers in the smeared wood line. Something inspires me about facing the unknown. I stand here alone, pulling the veils of mist around me like my beloved grandmother’s weaved blanket. I full-heartedly trust that I’m exactly where I am meant to be, even if I can’t see my path.
The Mist Creeps In
The Mist Creeps In
The Mist Creeps In
The mist creeps in softly and tucks my little town in for the evening. I turn my truck off and stand near the pond, listening to the open country. I hear birds rustling their feathers in the smeared wood line. Something inspires me about facing the unknown. I stand here alone, pulling the veils of mist around me like my beloved grandmother’s weaved blanket. I full-heartedly trust that I’m exactly where I am meant to be, even if I can’t see my path.