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 evesÂ
& 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