This Present Fog
A poem about one of my loves
Published in
Aug 19, 2019
Fog is a gift.
Blocking all but me and mine,
Sighing canopy, dark lace,
Breathing to me.
Centering.
Baring soul in black trees,
Urging notice of the near-by,
Blurring impending day.
Arresting.
Stirring from the valley,
Muffling distant hammers,
Whispering damp over all,
Stopping the world.
Thanks.