Get Your Premium Membership

Fog On The River

The hulls of small boats
drop down into the morning fog
then return like rising seagulls.
The moored
slip in and out of the mist
then return painted
by a deep diving sky.

Sinking or flying, the small craft
slip through our vision
like leaking ghosts.

They roll upon an obscure air
shipping cloudy waves,
a swell last seen
in shipwrecked teacups.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.


Book: Reflection on the Important Things