by Alice Feeley, RDC
can envelope my day
with panoramas of morning fog
erasing shorelines, folding ridge and hollow into clouds.
My window opens on bales of gray
spread out like smoke from unseen flames.
Backlit by watery sun, boats are blurred,
suspended in massive shrouds.
Everything is far away.
sometimes swift light sweeps away dense mist,
assuring me of what I know
before another wave of fog moves in
and hides it all. I’m a stranger
finding ways to improvise.