February, 02-06-13
The only nice thing about not being able to sleep is that I have the time to write a small poem. I DID go to sleep around 2 AM, but my "humane" mousetrap went off. I got up and took the trap to the dumpster behind my apartment, opened one end and... nothing there! No mouse! Hmmm, ghost mice? Anyway, I took a few pics of the fog and sat down and wrote this poem.
Early
Morning Fog
The
fog is a bit too thick for my dreams
they
huddle in the cobweb corner near the door
too
afraid to come out from their hiding place
and
watch the white froth that gathers round
the
metal legs of the streetlamps just outside my window.
I
can’t blame them or chastise them for being somewhat timid.
The
unknown can be frightening. And this lumbering fog slithers
along
the road just like a giant snake, a skinless lizard that makes
the
asphalt and the gutters hiss, makes the naked trees shiver.
A
night like this creates a hunger in my heart, a desert in my soul.
rrw
o2-o6-13
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