The sun dreams palely down

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This is Thanksgiving Weekend in Canada and I should probably be posting an overtly thankful poem. Let this be its substitute, for it sings the praises of some of the things for which I am most thankful: the ability to walk, beautiful places to walk, someone to walk with, fall colours, fall mists, the Creator who has designed the cycling of the seasons and this most gorgeous one.

This poem is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Patricia Stohr-Hunt at The Miss Rumphius Effect.

 

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

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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.