Winter Fog

Winter Fog

There is nothing like cold fog

Wrapping itself around me

Absorbing the warmth my heart had

Blurring my vision

Of endless bare skeleton limbs

The only thing moving in the fog

Is smoke gray on gray

Like a piano sonata conceived by

A deaf Beethoven the fog envelopes

Consciousness takes over the afternoon

With its own logic its mist eating

The light as its droplets grow into rain
The only thing lacking is a fire

A Hearth to hold it and desire akin to pain

Jack

2/1/11