The Shroud

The ethereal cloak of a misty morn

It's cutting chill like daggers drawn

The day to come, beyond the dawn, is hidden 'neath the gloom

The air sits silent, feels the threat

Of the damp and shifting faery net

Occluding thought as minds are met

Lest optimism blooms

The breeze laid low, its breath is still

The only sound the old church bell

Which peals a question, "heaven or hell?"

You choose the daily tune

But then a glimpse, a muted glow

The shroud retreats its heavenly show

To lick its wounds and so lay low

Thus light has ousted gloom

So use your spells your chants your wit

For sadness is a lousy fit

It creeps and claws and seeps and picks

If you allow it room

Yet once released from darkened clouds

Your message will be clear and loud

To banish such unwanted shrouds

And send them to their doom

For like your strength, your mood will lift

And far away that shroud will drift

To be replaced by welcome gifts

Of peace and fortitude