Fog in the Gardens

Dead echoes slip through the air
just reaching my ears, no more.
The distance seems much closer
with mist bleaching the gardens
in its heavy, still stupor.

Wide lawns, green underfoot,
fade slowly to white ahead.
Like litmus paper testing
the strength of my eyes' vision -
though more transient instead.

Hunch-back sentinels gather
at the edges of the mist.
Trees. Extending twiggy arms
to beckon the unwary
into their menacing midst.

Leaves' dampened motion holds
diamonds of dew tenderly,
in a dance of graceful moves,
across spiders' woven silk
in misty intimacy.