(If there was anything little
If there was anything little about this fog’s feet, you wouldn’t know it by the size of its body, laying a cloak of furry invisibility for miles. It hides whatever waits discovery under your nose, or at best past the truncated cone of the streetlamp outside the window. For all you know; some monster, its roar muffled, is about to swallow your world while no one is able to watch. And then, unlike the fog, her silence in the dark of your single question reveals everything as clearly as lightning and its following thunder.
2 thoughts on "(If there was anything little"
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I’ve really enjoyed your poems this month.
This one is really cool, how long you wait to relate the fog to a relationship. And then the weather metaphor continues with a lightning strike followed by its long lumbering Thunder.
Thank you, Jim. I even got in a hat-tip to Sandburg, whose work got me started on this path back in ’63.