Bellows in Harbour’s Mist

The rising mist in dark's harbour,
its eerie shroud engulfs me scared,
my exposed shroud now called fear,
as mist carried bellows become sharper,
while my nostrils become flared,
my bull bellows back as I become charged,
fear's shroud snug—grabbing a stick for a spear,
with mist-tears I retreat from bellows - now pupils enlarged.


I took the prompt from a poetess to try today's San San Prompt.  My chosen 3 words were bellows, mist, and shroud following the pattern 7 lines a-b-c-a-b-d-c-d.  I loved the challenge, giddy at times, and hopefully expanded my horizons a bit.
Feedback appreciated.  Thanks tivonna@tivonna.com