Fog and wind are my kin,
The windswept waves my Mother is
She birthed me from her darkened depths,
Her Icy air was my first breath,
She nursed me upon her salty spray,
And nurtured me in her fickle way.

And when she deemed me to be a man,
She sent me off to distant lands.

Her Currents were my knowing Guide,
Upon her waves I did ride,
And Many wonders did I behold,
From shore-side castles to cities of gold.

But a long time has passed since then….

Now I sit, a scuttled ship,
With wispy sails and a rotted frame.
Beached upon the dry Wind-blasted shore.

I might strike out again, once more,
One last time…

in a skiff  without a compass or aim
To set out beyond the maps farthest known lines
Farther even then dragons’ dare,
Carried on my mothers tide.

there shall I take my final breath,
Icy, cloying and keen.
Cares stripped, all content, no regret,
Welcome Death….
Return I , smiling, from whence I came.

You wrap around
me, like a fog.
Haze of bitter
sweet miasma.
Smothering.
Smothering.

Consciousness
Makes the crawl
Long before the body
The light haze that lifted
Is now a dense, heavy fog

Gently I
Swim down the hall
In awe,
How still the morning,
And still more
Submerged in slumber

Sleep cradles
But soon, a release
Into the thousand pound mist
And crawl
They will crawl
Searching for the day
With her open arms

Snowy ground
Lies untouched
Perfectly perfect
Made for us

Out the widow
Snow falls
Fire burning
Widows fog

Red nosed
In the house
Rosy cheeks
On the couch

Curled up
In a sweater
“How are you?”
“Never better,”

The brume dripped down the hills in inevitable
swaths, with mist dispersing across the
town, yet with no more room left to run.
I sifted through the fog dancing across
my windshield, with vision blurred from
headlights looking me deep in the eye.
Shepherded by racing heart, I spotted a
glow through the murky negative. A flame.
The red licks to the heavens stole my arms,
swerving my car out of the lane. I threw
my eyes to the source of the embers just to
identify a street light blinking at me, the haze
softening its edges. I laughed to the beat
of the music echoing softly through my
vehicle, after I bid my goodbyes to the
tale of potential heroism that floated
away with the wisps.