
Poetry
The Fog
The fog again –it hangs late this year,whitening the airthe way snow whitens the ground.Separating the city,it makes neighbours invisible,softening and dulling all of life.
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The fog again –it hangs late this year,whitening the airthe way snow whitens the ground.Separating the city,it makes neighbours invisible,softening and dulling all of life.
The first flurries are falling,falling slowly. In the dark of morning,I reached into my shadow closetand plucked my wool sweater,the old one, with snowflakes. It