The fog loses purchase
on the window
and, dying, wicks
ashy vapor's slick scatter
to gated green-brown.
Morning comes again
in fractioned crooks
of snow declining
into fat eggs of rain.
The fog is a colossus,
ravels with dragging step,
before retiring itself
above oak branchlets.
The sun wraps away
in gray, as if stolen.
Nativity of cloud.
I'm telling you this:
everything is possible.
Jan 25, 2021
Jan 25, 2021 at 9:07 AM UTC
The fog loses purchase
on the window
and, dying, wicks
ashy vapor's slick scatter
to gated green-brown.
Morning comes again
in fractioned crooks
of snow declining
into fat eggs of rain.
The fog is a colossus,
ravels with dragging step,
before retiring itself
above oak branchlets.
The sun wraps away
in gray, as if stolen.
Nativity of cloud.
I'm telling you this:
everything is possible.
