holding fog

All week, the sky has been full of fog

Days spent on the edge of tears

Without the relief of shedding them

What do we do with anger

Watch it dissipate

Or build

The white mist behind the trees

What do we do with sorrow

The sadness in still things

How do we sit in the stillness

And listen

How do we stand still

The low horns in the distance,

Boats asleep moaning on the water

Warning of the shore

Where do we stand in the stillness

As it permeates, asks for rest

When the cormorants wake

Their wings are covered in wet

And they lift them to greet the sun

You would never know how heavy with dew

And salt, their greased feathers gleam in it

Their salutations, become pink breath,

Full of light and heat

And still

The sky is full of fog

We know the storm is coming

Christie Flemming