The Fog

She slips in silently, almost slyly,
Wrapping her damp habit around everything she comes close to...
Winter is her mother and dampness her lifeblood,
And she'll run a mile when the sun attempts to intersperse her gossamer
With His spools of golden thread.

She glides along stealthily,
Descending from the sky be it late night
Or before Lady Aurora makes her appearance.
Sometimes she may cause ol' Aurora to wait a while tho'
Before she'll allow the Goddess to turn on her charm
And turn the wet and the dark to the bright and the gold.

But while she is about
The whole world is one big ocean;
Everything submerged in her moist whiteness...
The hills, the houses, the deserts and the trees,
Even animals and homo sapiens too!
All enveloped within her wet shroud
And appearing as if out of a storybook;
Their very essence bathed in her mysterious glory.

She is around everything and everyone
She is inside everything and everyone
And everything and everyone seem to have a bit of her in them;
And as one looks at the magic woven by her unending and unyielding fingers
One is mesmerized by the sheer brilliance with which she
Manages to persuade her most determined adversaries
To give up and instead become a part of
The quaint world she paints of dreamy whiteness
Where one is transported on Time's eclectic wings
Battling a spirit ripe with the possibility of the unexpected
And posing a true challenge for the uncompromisingly imaginative.


Sometimes impatient Aurora brings along her playmate - the Sun
And shy fog starts her silent retreat,
Glancing back all along
To see if anything or anyone had been left out
From the glory of her magical realm.
Smiling, she promises to come again
And make those lost souls a party to her splendor;
Another time...maybe another lifetime...
It depends on your luck where you might be
For you are truly one of the chosen few
If you get to see and be part of the magnificence
That is the inexplicable and quintessential Fog!