Fog

I just returned from a two mile walk in the fog.  It fit my mood.  I felt so much better as I prayed (in spite of the mist) and by the time I returned home, the sun was trying to peak through.  It reminded me of a poem I wrote long ago.      

FOG

A cold, white-gray mantle settles upon everything,

Muffling sounds, distorting vision, often causing it

 to cease altogether.

Quiet, downy-soft...wrapping its gentle white fingers

 about one as a scarf.

Such deep quiet...an eerie, yet, soothing atmosphere.

The light in a house seems cheerier,

The fire warmer,

The sounds of humanity dearer.

Sometimes, a season of fog comes into one's life,

Casting cold, quiet, impersonal feelings within,

Leaving one wandering about a bit befuddled....

Drawing nearer to the familiar, to the warmth.

Feeling isolated, alone, fearful, a bit confused,

In blindness, one sometimes stumbles, falls

 or runs into things.

Then comes the sun, a little breeze,

Clearing away the fog,

Leaving all more dear and causing appreciation for the

 warmth and clear skies.

The fogs are necessary, but never forever.

The fogs come and the fogs go,

And always comes the sun.

Dark moments, moments of torment and confusion come,

 that's inevitable,

But, always comes the sun and sweeps the fog away.

It leaves one stronger and wiser, more loving and

 understanding of others whose lives are now in fog.

At this time, we, the veterans of other foggy times

 can bring some warmth into their lonely lives.

 "From A Cry of Anguish to a Shout of Praise" by Crystal J. Ortmann, 1994