Arts + Scene » Poetry




Fog languidly cloaks

this seaside town

spreading over

rooftop and door stoop

creeping into the cracks

of my soul

slowly breaking brick


with an imposing silence

I have learned not to hear.

Fog has no mercy.

It hovers cruelly over this town

relentless in summer

like the focused stillness

of a velvet, black cat

ready to pounce,

a precious, winged creature

she will not spare.

There is no escape.

This fog

will break you

like tree roots under

a crumbling sidewalk,

like the moss growing on your back

like the weeds growing in your ears

feel the slow decaying of your heart

you are deaf to the outside world.

Yet redwood trees release sighs of dearness

damp, dripping.

I lean back

in my rocking chair

and wait


for the generous sun-cast days

of autumn.

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