Notes About The Poem

Fog

eerie fog comes creeping to the woods
nudging its way to my consciousness
leaving smoky kisses sweet caressed to skin and leaf 
inching in upon us like a weighted blanket 
intertwined amongst the woven air.
Without a sound it draws us in 
swallows us whole as though a quiet python.
A surging ocean of merging gray 
snapping, in an instant gone 
all woods and air engulfed at once 
in gulp of white.
No longer are we separated
bird to sky, fish to water, 
one upon our continent shadowed, 
silky-smooth and gliding 
copulations pinned and clinging 
to the air and trees. 
It pleases me to breathe.
I haven’t felt my heartbeat for awhile
too busy in my head with chores
inherited from somewhere 
far outside this quiet place.
I need a moment 
I take much more
a lifetime gathering gasps of view
such peaceful moments in my turmoil, few
Before I was a poet all my eyes had feelings.
My skin could see.
when I looked upon these woods, 
they looked to me.
Now, lost within this fog of life 
with woods, my friend, retreating 
meeting me a visitor en-cloaked
invoking stillness, damp, and fear 
memory of our friendship 
far too distant me to hear.
Tears I’ve spilled within this wood 
all come back to me
my heart, although alone, 
not left alone to be.
The fog inside these woods 
born, of late, inside of me.

anxietyconfusiondarkdepressionintrospectionprose poetry

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