fog
penetrates
cold through jackets
bites into boots and gloves
grips bones
greedy for more
breathes on windows
slips under doors
muffles traffic’s roar
with cotton batting
drivers grope
through the tulle
maneuver cautious
past blurred landscapes
strain to see crimson
pinpricks ahead
standards looming
green, yellow, red
weakens under
distant globe
like consciousness
after a coma
colour seeps back
into earth-corpse
a blush
of pastel happiness
to clarity
then the brilliance
of hope
dissipating depression
© 2013 by Violet Nesdoly
***************
We are in the season of fog. Though our winter has been milder than many, we often have day after day of the stuff. I don’t mind fog, though it does have a way of poking shivers through jackets, it’s nasty to drive in, and when it lingers and lingers, I do feel a sort of cabin fever, even outside. What’s wonderful about fog is how suddenly and unexpectedly it can clear… like some other types of weather.
“fog” is part of Poetry Friday, hosted today by the very hospitable (she has tea!) April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors.
Very moving…I especially like the second half of the last stanza, which brings about hope!
Thanks Matt. Lifted fog does that for me–bring hope.
awesome pic!
Thanks so much Flora! (I messed with the original a little
)
Fog can be beautifully mysterious or just plain miserable to live with. As you’ve said, it can dissipate quickly! Lovely images in your words.
Hi Lorrie and thanks! Yes, fog can certainly outstay her welcome. Hope the worst is over for the season.
Wow, Violet, it’s beautiful, & that picture is awesome, too. I love your use of verbs throughout.
Thanks so much, Linda! (About the verbs, that’s what they all preach, right? So we try)
Very clever melding of content with device–in fog, we have no choice but to allow sound to become a primary sensory touchstone, and the sound-echoes in the poem (penetrates-jackets-bites; bones-windows-under; doors-roar, to name a very few) are prolific and lovely.
Wonderful atmospheric poem, Violet. I always think of Jack the Ripper when fog is mentioned, so I like the blush of pastel happiness turning things around at the end
.
I’ve been in a personal fog. I really appreciated the line about the colour seeping back in.
“breathes on windows
slips under doors”
Love the imagery. I don’t like driving in the fog, especially at night! It’s not too bad this year, really. But I wish this fog season would be over soon. Thanks for sharing both the picture and poem, Violet. =)
I lived near the coast in central CA during college – we had fog from May to October! Yes, it does “slip under doors”. You’ve captured visceral effect of fog perfectly. Thanks for sharing your poem. =)
Hauntingly beautiful, Violet. And I love the photo you have put with this! Such great word choices here. Some of my favorites are “crimson pinpricks,” “distant globe,” and the wonderful “earth corpse.”
Gorgeous photo. And your poem…just…wow. Everything about it: wow.
Trees in fog seem very dramatic to me. You really build the mood, line by line, Violet!
Violet — I love the musicality of these lines:
breathes on windows
slips under doors
muffles traffic’s roar
Thank you for your attentiveness to and way of seeing the fog.
wonderful imagery! love it!