Wednesday, January 21, 2015


Fog hangs in bright tents
contagion enfolds
blighted white mist
like driven, lost souls.

But curtains enclose
our dim, soft room,
and lanterns guard
against fog’s ashen gloom.

So build high the fire
to warm us this night;
we'll silently wait for
dawn’s thin, brittle light.

(29 January 2011)

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