FOG
Gray fog, water, and still air
muffle
Indeterminate distant sounds and the
Tide stealthily sidles up the tan sand
Gulls, nonchalant, grooming, pretending
Others don't exist
Yet each guards with quickened eye
it's own space
Watching, hoping --
That from the enveloping gray
where there is no defined form and
where disembodied light and sound
come from everywhere
--- Something will come from somewhere.
