FOG'S DIMENSIONS by jo_dis ()
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Earth’s mystery blankets made for moods: a grim
Foreboding presence setting blurry scenes
For mayhem’s murders, screams unanswered, ice
Cold corpses hidden from the prying eyes
Of flashlights searching for a someone there.
With easy effort land’s clouds put on masks
To dim identity: ghost passersby,
The shapes of cars and skeletons of ships
All inching toward safe harbors where a bass
Voice foghorn bellows, “You’re approaching home.”
But if earth’s moods prefer sweet softer veils
All nature chants much different hymns because
Her buds, her blooms and leaves are kissed with dew
For butterflies to feast on sunrise, flights
Of birds are stirred from sleep to soar in song
And we frail creatures can escape pain’s dreams
To whisper, “It’s so good to be alive.”
(for April Fools)
Image Comments (3)
Thankfully, ours is somewhere in between. Chilled melancholy, perhaps, in morning's murky mist. A shape-softening, silken serenade to substandard sunlight. A continuum between evil's soundtrack and spring's sweet twitter. I like your imagery very much, and your writing is always inspiring!