Thursday, September 27, 2012

In Which the Long-Running Poem Series About the Winter of 2005 Proceeds at its Own Stately Pace

December 14, 2005
This morning’s fog utterly different from the day before’s

a great high mass of hard steely gray
sat up there
made all the light flat
and you could tell just by looking
it wasn’t going anywhere
the bank had settled in for the day

a fine sheer wet silvery mist floating around in the sky
glowing from within and draping the tops of the buildings
Clearly as ephemeral as it was immediate and chilly
with an icy cold breeze that flew right in your face
but softly
and therefore bracingly rather than bone-chillingly

Around here
we need a lot more words for fog
like the Inuit are supposed to have for snow
(though I’ve heard that’s an urban legend)

image source is here

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