Fog
Fog
The fog lies deep,
Deep as a whisper,
On Sengekontacket pond,
The far shore only a
Charcoal smudge
Engulfed in smoky gray.
At left, the scrubby dunes
Hunch dark along the road.
The sea beyond blends
Seamlessly into the void,
Where tolls the warning
Of a passing, phantom ship.
Then, ahead, out of the mist,
A pair of yellow eyes!
And a dark and formless beast
Slips by me on the road, silently,
Disappearing, winking red
In my rear view mirror.
When I reach the little bridge,
Suddenly the air is clear!
No trace of fog or misty trees
Or passing, ghostly ships!
Without a thought, I turn
And head back whence I came!
I stop along the sandy road,
Take up my steaming cup,
And scramble through the dunes.
I sit, heedless of the damp sand,
Sip my morning coffee,
And listen - listen to the silence.
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