Mist

Once I heard that every night,
fairies gather around the lake,
and rehearse a mysterious dance.

Again and again,
they twirl and glide,
and drift and linger.

For when the moment comes,
and the gentle breeze wakes them in the early morning.

They will put their grey twinkling costumes on,
and perform their magical dance.

They will rise and hover,
with grace and poise.

Holding hands,
they will form,
the ethereal blanket that we know as mist.

As the sun rays warm their bodies,
the tiny fairies will slowly fade away to their meadows,
to rehearse their dance again and again.