Fog

It was the coast
that brought you both here,
each arriving with every
intention to stay. The fog

will suggest that you find
its beginning, then precede you
in the night—coming on as a dream and leaving

like memory. You cannot help but be
inside it, surrounded
by a cool gray
evidence of water.

It may even

become you, consuming
the places
you depart,
filling in

where your thoughts leave off.

In its static pose the fog makes
believe that it is going
nowhere, that it can be

this way forever. But that is not
the case. An illusion learned
from time—being in one
place yet always

moving on—it is all it can do, to pretend
it is not mortal. Watch

how it lingers, falling on
sand, caressing tall bluffs of rock, patiently
cloaking every crevice of earth until you

forget that you have been
at all. Where was
it you stood? Who were
you then?