Fog
written by: Christine Piatek
Ephemeral fog striates the nearby farm field
hovering low—thick yet transparent.
Like most conundrums,
its white, snowy blanket
shimmers in the sunlight
that will soon quash this temporal mist
as dawn breaks into day,
sending remnants of night to memory.
Vexing fog envelops me
as each day slips into memory,
the door closing on experience, sensation
and memories fade into wisps of mist.
I reach for them—the memories, their faces,
in the opaque recesses of my brain.
Life’s details entangle in the thicket of forgetfulness
and the relief of sudden recall.
Each day ends in shimmering fog,
a cycle of purpose that folds into reverie,
the past—immediate, then distant.
Deeper, by day, by year, by decade
into the recesses of being.
Countless memories continue creation of life’s story,
remembered or not.
- Fog - November 20, 2024
- A Little While Longer - August 15, 2024
- Heartwork - May 21, 2024
