Stephen Gardner

The young men think it's merely river mist, say,
"Fog's sure thick this morning down the Edisto."
Old men know it's different, thicker than steam,
Wrapping and hanging in the moss and cypress.
But what--they cannot tell for sure, won't guess;
They grip their pipes and slowly walk away,
Muttering about memories they've always kept
For themselves.


Return to Fall 2007 Table of Contents