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I walked past dusk,
when the light of the day wilted
behind tree line and field edge
and the whole earth turned to blue haze.

The heat that was still in the ground,
still in the leaf,
still in me,
came out –
little engines in us, all –
to confront the cold in the new, night air;
and our contrary meeting plunged us all into fog.

In the valleys of straight paths, this fog settled and laid,
my stalled pace stopped sound;
No rock turned under my toe.

There, a little lost, disoriented and strange,
a smile that could not be seen, was spread.

The benefits of fog came on me like breath –

You cannot see with the eye.
You can fathom with the mind.
You can wonder with the heart.
but you must choose:
fill with doubt and alarm?
or peace and resolution?
strain to make shapes out of shadows?
or sense the shape of yourself within them?

 

In small spaces of still, grey air,

there is only you;

to be content in

or to fear.

 

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