The eerie beings sweeps over the pasture for dew,
And leaves the mares in hazy air concealed.
The naked hooves so gently caress the meadow anew,
Such a motionless awe lies o’er the field.
The oldest mare, a fair blue roan lifts up her head,
And in an airy voice she calls my name;
Come close my friend, step out of there and leave your shed.
The fog moved on as I approached the dame.
For hundreds of years you’ve engineered a darker truth;
The Spirit world is shy and shun from thee.
Again I challenge you to fix your wisdom tooth,
Reclaim your former nature, live by the lea.
The loss of light shone through the forest, so barren and cleft
The night embraced the land, just hope was left.
The fifth day’s assignment was prompted “fog” in the form of an “elegy” and to use the device “metaphor”.