Today’s poems feature a natural phenomena that I find endlessly fascinating…mist. Forest mist is particularly evocative, I love it the water droplets hang like moments held in suspended animation.
Drawing back the mist The mist disperses revealing the battle between my dreams and the monsters that lurk in the day light.
This next one is from my book, Harbour. It recalls a day when there was a thick sea fog hanging around most of the morning, and there truly was a Jehovah’s Witness standing with their pamphlets trying to save the souls of world weary commuters.
Mists of time The mist hangs easily in still air brining a cool relief that is not ambitious enough to form droplets. It wafts and floats softly making damp the JWs pamphlets dutifully displayed for commuters. The greyness softens the view making the sharp look smooth and the old appear new. Such a magical start to the day as we wait and wait: another Monday morning train delay.
Fog is just overambitious mist created in different places and lasts longer. For anyone stumbling across this page years from now, it was written about coming out of one the pandemic related lockdowns that occurred during 2020 to 2022. Hopefully we now riding the last wave to a sunny day on the beach. Fingers crossed! Now for the poem:
When alert levels drop The day rolls by As the fogs rolls in Creating grey on grey splendour An almost solid vapour. The city continues to reawaken After months of forced rest More sirens and horns Queues and remorse Unfamiliar faces become known And voices now in IRL Lockdown Hashtag Iso in the bag. As the day rolls by And fog rolls in Filling my mind with Reality, magic and myth.
Angele Toomey Poetry 