.
It softens the edges
of tree and crow,
blunts our point of view.
We can turn a corner
in the fog
and never know.
See the old man
in the mist?
He is a shaman
shifting our perspective
with his white breath.
He knows that fog
is a giant, downy feather
that blesses our fever,
then suspends us
between all that ever was
and all that ever can be
in the alpha-omega soup
of possibility.
.
© 2013, 2017 Betty Hayes Albright
.
(A re-post from four years ago. )
Seasonings 
Strange how you can drive a road daily..but when the fog rolls in…your perspective changes significantly…and you don’t know where your at…hmm…sound like where we’re at in this nation right now.
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Alas, it does, Charlie. Never give up hope that the fog will lift someday.
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So creative. Nice metaphors the comes together in the end.
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Thanks very much, Kim.
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This is a fine one, Betty. And so many kinds of fog …
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Thanks for your kind words, Ben.
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Ethel says, this is so marvelous, Betty. Thank you.
Tom:
What I like so much about your poetry, Betty, is the intensity of the images you conjure. Like Ethel you do so in tight, condensed lines that explode of the reader, building powerful emotions in reaction to
“the edges
of tree and crow”
and white feathers and white fog.
In addition you manage to infuse all of that with a sense of mysticism that approaches spirituality and the deepness in the human spirit tied to the deepness of the earth:
He is a shaman
shifting our perspective
with his white breath.
He knows that fog
is a giant, downy feather
And then your endings! Metaphors that rail off the normal tracks and leave us in
the alpha-omega soup
of possibility.
Wow!
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Thank you, Thomas and Ethel, for your comments! It’s good to hear from you. I always look forward to your thoughtful feedback. Hope all is well in Wisconsin and that spring will be upon us soon!
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