there’s a fog hugging onto the hills
that should’ve burned away
with the sunrise.
it should’ve disappeared.
dissipated into the country air
without leaving a mark. 
but it’s stubborn, like me –
determined to stay in this holler,
to sink into the tender skin
of young leaves unprepared

for scorching summer.
i fill my lungs with the fog,
sure that it will travel through my body
and leave spring dampness in my blood.