The other day on my way to work, I was driving by a small railroad yard that I pass every morning. This particular morning was still cool from the chilly night before, but was being warmed by a quickly rising sun. The familiar location was blanketed by a lingering mist, lit up in a pale gold by the sun rising over the trees. Where I could have normally looked down the distant rail line slowly curving under a bridge was hidden from view by a veil of shimmering cloud. A usually drab and industrial scene was turned into a magical place. It kind of excited what’s left of a childlike imagination in me.
A Bright Mist
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