Morning FogBy Mike Mercer
The sun’s red crescent lightly pierces the fog,
Heavy dew on the leaves bow limbs toward the ground.
English fog along creeks, waits for the sun to warm it away.
As trails wiped by low moving animals cross the grass
Noise of life in the distance goes on unseen in the mist
I can tell the haze will not give up easily today.
Secure, hidden from view, unafraid of things I cannot see.
Moving on morning chores, the fog wakes behind me.
Steam rises from my coffee cup and settles on my hand
The doe and her offspring think they are hidden.
If I do not break my stride they will not spook.
This is the one time of day I cannot be called upon.
Only God knows how sacred this time is to me.
Rest and peace that can never be conveyed by word.
Today I recognize my reflection in the pond.
Sometimes I dare not look in fear a stranger I will see.
This moment in life requires no future.
The fog hugs me like a mother’s love.
She needs nothing in return and leaves me independent.
When her mist burns away.