In a better time and place . . . and with a nod to Carl Sandburg.
Fog rolling in off the hills
To this meadow where the mare and I
Have come to say our goodnights.
This is not the thin smoke of city fog
Creeping in on cats’ paws
But country fog that floods the senses,
Thick and wet as a waterfall.
The horse shies and runs before it,
Seeking her safety in the barn.
In the morning I will return
And sit her glistening back,
Hold her in my legs like a lover
As she swims in deep green dew
To the edge of those far dark hills
Where the fog will be waiting for us.
Poetry by countryfog
Read 456 times
Written on 2011-05-22 at 18:01
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)