Morning Fog
Janet Butler

Fog mists and blanks surroundings
an erasure almost perfect except for smudges
here and there where buildings stood
fading now as cloud settles.

I walk a tenuous line of the barely seen
the softness evaporating the closer I come
only to fall in folds behind me.

It seems an alien presence, warrior ghosts
of quiet intimidation
until they discreetly fade one by one
like Chinese gentlemen backing circumspectly
through doors of day.

Return to Spring 2012 Table of Contents