The sea mists roll in off the Atlantic and caress the shattered peaks with their gossamer touch.
These orographic djinns rise and form then dissipate into the warm lee of the mountain.
Their magnificence is utterly ephemeral, a moment of great beauty where aeolian zephyrs spin fine lace from the very emptiness of air.
These insubstantial wisps have the power though, to obscure and transform the familiar, into a mythic tale or Jurassic dream.
Their great beauty lies in their essential being of impermanence.
Right now they add to the palimpsest of livingness here upon the mountain.
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Photo courtesy of the author.