The Lifting Fog

Last night

one too many Irish coffees

& dithering about plans for

today

Sun rise,

deep fog in the trees

black brown red fingers pointing

into whiteness

<Plopping slaps of water

from the eves 

& a squirrel tenses

on the waiting cordwood>

This morning

we type read scan in silence

& then you say

Is it time for breakfast?

Thin milky white

glow retreats

between stretched trees

exposing deep forest