November 05, 2003

A poem on fog

Fogs are soft-edged dreams
of light and dark. The light
behind trees past them streams
straight, silhouettes, the creams

and yellows blinding, blending.
Dusky shadows melt to blackness,
eating cars and sleeping buildings--
ghosts and angels softly winging.

Posted by Tim at November 5, 2003 02:19 AM
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