a thick fog has settled over the house and valley
I can not see farther than the crab apple
the edges of the barn have faded
it has muted all the morning bird song
but for a lonely cardinal in the pine tree
and an angry crow across the road
I imagine that while I was dreaming restful dreams
it fell from the sky, madly expelled - did not rise up
must have been the lightning strikes in the back woods
in those magic hours of the early morning it rolled over
woke me up long enough to crawl out of dream a few steps
rest in the comforting air, listen for the rain to start
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