does not come in
on little cat feet,
resting on silent haunches
over dark, picturesque harbors.
Some fog is
unforgiving, maddening,
dangerous and dense.
When driving through
such fog,
slow down.
So much
unintentional damage
can be done
with one wrong reflex,
to one unseen victim,
especially to yourself.
If you can’t witness
the fog
safely and serenely
from a distance,
pull over
and let it pass.
No,
all fog does not
come in
on little cat feet.
Sometimes
it masquerades
as anger
or depression
or relentless pain.
Don’t let it
drive you
into the side
of a mountain.
Good advice. Gosh I want to say that I've read this before, from you, but I am most likely delirious again.
ReplyDeletemany la la's Mosky.
I really like this poem. Was it Wilde who described it as coming on cat's paws, or Eliot, perhaps? I admire the way you present a different image of fog, moving from the literal to the figurative. Very well done.
ReplyDeleteI feel the fog is something much more than fog sometimes... I feel it's angst and anger... and definitely there are claws in the feline feet of such fog.
ReplyDeleteAh. Isn't it a combination of Carl Sandburg and eliot! Ha! But your warnings are Clever and true both. Thanks. K.
ReplyDeleteLove this, B!
ReplyDeleteFog is seductive...It gives the illusion you are the only one in the mist, but the world moves at the speed of deception. Thanks for the warning/advice.
ReplyDeleteYes, yes... yes.
ReplyDeleteBeautifully written, again Buddha :)
ReplyDeleteWow. This might be a favorite of mine of your poetry. Perhaps it connects as we are moving to a mountain town known for its fog... but I adore the metaphor as well. Beautiful Well done!
ReplyDelete...and yet as dangerous as it is, I love early morning fog and its gift to photograph... ;)
ReplyDeleteI'm going to bookmark this one and read it the next time depression wakes me up in the middle of the night, just so that I can feel bad.
ReplyDelete