Fog
You walk slowly on with
cold, clammy fingers
sliding into your lungs,
the beaded moisture at your throat
subtly invading body and mind
producing a mysterious serenity and fear,
muffling your hollow footsteps.
Swirling grey shadows and hidden noises
surround and follow;
anxiety chases pleasure and fear.
Overhead the major stars and planets vie
with the leering moon for mastery
in the shimmering, blueing sky.
Up ahead the path rises,
and at the top is
a stunning visual overlay of another place.
At your feet
the white cotton protecting
the oblivious world below
in the air magnificent creatures soar
all to be seen and known.
After small contemplation you turn your back
on scintillating life above and
return to the hushed mists.
Following the paths of others,
you go around the rise
walk off with the fog gently
transforming you to a pale shadow,
muffling your empty footfalls.
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Copyright © 1998 John B Cooke IV
House o' Poetry
Jack'n'Jim World