Heavy Morning fog
Indistinct grey shadows
The forest is beyond existence
In this reduced world
Emptiness fills perspective
Distance disappears
Sight is useless
Hearing has to tune in
Silence is mute
Until the crested wood pigeons
Metallic flight tears at its core
Banning all echo in the waiting moment
Crows caws to signal their position
The galahs are screeching
In the trees canopy
Raising the alarm
The swishing and flapping
Of a heavy flyer is heard overhead
But remains unidentifiable
Even the wind is absent
Touch takes the relay
The fog weighs on one's breath
A résille of cold dripping droplets
Attaches itself on every hair
Wetness is paramount
Time itself is suspended
Fog fills the vacuum .
Lucette C. Bailliet
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