Yesterday was rough, but today is gentler.  
Today the fog tells me it's okay.  
It seeps through the open window,
wraps itself in the curtains
and finally curls itself around me.  
The peppermint air embraces
my ankles,
my knees,
my tailbone,
my shoulder blades.  
It whispers, it tells me you are not far.  
You remain in the breeze, just like me.  
You haven't been scattered to the wind, you've become it.  
In the morning you rise from my raspberry tea,
and you nestle above french toast in a pan,
you coil through the glass of my shower,
you perch on the front window of my car.  
And before I drift to dreams,
you wander through the fan
and sink back into the basement,
you lightly brush the edge of the counter as I close the sliding door.  
But, always, and forever
you linger just above my head
and whisper like the fog.