Wreathed in kinetic wisps of fog,
the trees achromatize,
then re-emerge, verdant.
Chi Gong students wave hands in clouds
- no longer a metaphor,
but this morning ...
breathable.
Stillness envelops all
until leaf blowers and edge clippers
cleave the calmness with
their sounds of domesticated gardens.
As if defeated by the din,
the fog retreats back towards the ocean,
leaving but a token of itself
shimmering on the grass.
Glenna Duméy
10/22/11
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
Wreathed in kinetic wisps of fog,
the trees achromatize,
then re-emerge, verdant.
Chi Gong students wave hands in clouds
- no longer a metaphor,
but this morning ...
breathable.
Stillness envelops all
until leaf blowers and edge clippers
cleave the calmness with
their sounds of domesticated gardens.
As if defeated by the din,
the fog retreats back towards the ocean,
leaving but a token of itself
shimmering on the grass.
Glenna Duméy
10/22/11
Extraordinary experience, the only way to capture it was in a poem.
