This Present Fog

A poem about one of my loves

Photo by Tiago Aguiar on Unsplash

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.