Fog Hanging Low

I recall fog hanging low

Before Winter spilled her snow

First few flakes, then fathoms deep

Quieting our cul de sac street

Closing tight each home in sleep

As though they were one, the night

Sky and ground’s soundless white…

Preceding months, Fall, fog’s thick cloak

An entity settling somber upon folk

Muzzy thoughts muffling words spoke

Shoulders hunched, heavy steps slow

Somehow though, we made our way

Through those pewter yesterdays

Damp endless bleak, much concealed

Decades gone, secrets still not revealed

Hid amid long weeks’ gray pall

Of Northwest fog hanging low, I recall

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations,  2020 ~ All rights reserved.

Winter Bleak

Winter bleak

No other hue

So palpable, still

Monochromatic

Beige-taupe daub

Applied bored, careless

With worn broad brush 

From sky to naked trees

Dripped on mute ground

Dispirited, ponderous

Gray-grave season

Opaque-layered mystery

Conceals seeds of

Blinding magnificence

©Rhen Laird/Cobbled Contemplations, 2020 ~ All rights reserved.