Fog is one of my favorite weather patterns. Getting lost in it doesn't bother me at all (driving in it doesn't bother me terribly, either [1]). I like how it dampens sound, making everything seem serene and peaceful (I like the same thing about snowfall). A week after Lincoln was born [2], when we all woke up it was foggy outside. I took Lilli for little walk around our apartment complex and took some pictures. Since I don't really have any comments to give about the pictures, I'm also sharing a poem that I wrote in college about fog.
A hint of moisture
Blinks at your cruciform arms
And wonders at your intrusion;
The air around turns white
Like a frosted mug.
The ghostly afterthought of warmth—
It forces itself down throats
To possess again corporeal form;
Or a long-lost lover
Caressing primordial skin.
Knowledge departs—
Your heart slows down—
The world shrinks like a forgotten balloon
Until the senses dim
And abandon their chores.
The sun closes his eyes;
His beams lose their way
Running hither and thither
Like children at the fair—
Touching everything and nothing.
Grass becomes emerald—
Soil becomes mahogany—
A tree—the veins of the earth;
Life where there was none before,
Death in the tiniest sound.
Tranquility is its scepter
Quenching all vibration,
Strangling individuality with a grin;
The earth lies still—
Silence erupts from your mouth.
Notes:
[1] However, when I drove the moving truck from Utah to Wisconsin (see here), I did get a little nervous when it was so cold that the fog was freezing onto my windshield.
[2] See my post Unexpected Delivery II.
Morning Fog
A hint of moisture
Blinks at your cruciform arms
And wonders at your intrusion;
The air around turns white
Like a frosted mug.
The ghostly afterthought of warmth—
It forces itself down throats
To possess again corporeal form;
Or a long-lost lover
Caressing primordial skin.
Knowledge departs—
Your heart slows down—
The world shrinks like a forgotten balloon
Until the senses dim
And abandon their chores.
The sun closes his eyes;
His beams lose their way
Running hither and thither
Like children at the fair—
Touching everything and nothing.
Grass becomes emerald—
Soil becomes mahogany—
A tree—the veins of the earth;
Life where there was none before,
Death in the tiniest sound.
Tranquility is its scepter
Quenching all vibration,
Strangling individuality with a grin;
The earth lies still—
Silence erupts from your mouth.
Notes:
[1] However, when I drove the moving truck from Utah to Wisconsin (see here), I did get a little nervous when it was so cold that the fog was freezing onto my windshield.
[2] See my post Unexpected Delivery II.
Beautiful!!!
ReplyDelete