If I was fog, I’d drift gently here
and there, not caught in life’s
wheel of life
If I was fog, I’d touch leaves,
tall pines, avoid roads with twin
yellow lines
If I was Fog I’d be a grey shroud
and cover tall mountains and join
with the clouds
If I was fog, I’d go down in deep
valleys far from the city, with
their endless alleys
If I was fog, I’d touch the Golden
Rod blooms
Be the blanket for the nest of
The crying Loon
David
1985