mist
ascended
from the sea
like fog
released
by an invisible dam

soon
only the tops
of buildings
showed

on the roads
and pavements
it was all consuming
surrounding
insinuating

I walked
into a tree
and apologised
my brain
realing
my head
bruised
my pride
dented

we kissed

your lips
moist
droplets crawling
down your face
hands mist cold

the siren wailed
on Hook Head
those to sea
at sea were lost
a bitter autumn harvest

in the pulpit
the minister
seemed
to pause
perhaps tremble a bit
his certainties
gone
at least
for a moment

a grey orb
over a grey earth
slowly gained sway
the fog dispersed
with the congregation
slowly
with the tide
chit chat
still
at halt

silently we walked
hand in hand
to the lighthouse
white bands
on black
or is it
the other way

had the fog
truly gone
or simply to
other places
to chill the bones
and to remind us
of our fear fullness
good Christians
one and all