My Inner Fog

| October 06, 2011

Hugs coastlines,
Rolls over bottomlands,
Saunters up hills
Steeped in redwoods
And other artifacts
That measure time,

Settling on
Everything that moves,
Or sits patiently
Waiting for a sign
That the Earth still
Spins West to East.

I am bending
To the notions
Hidden in fog.


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