Descending Fog


How’s your brother?
Cancer. Tumors. Hospice. Inoperable.
Weeks. Days. Who knows?
Life is fleeting.

A silent prayer
for those hurting.
Let go, I tell myself
as I imagine losing
my brother, my sister,
my husband, my little boy, my little girl,
another friend or coworker or parent.

Reading my sadness,

the morning fog descends.
I don’t see
the bunny scampering
in front of me.
Brakes slammed.
Thoughts interrupted.
Thoughts amplified.
I sigh.
Life is fragile.

A text message from an old friend
with thoughts of time flying
while he misses things.
Life is flying.

The bunny lived,
still I am missing things.
For a moment
the fog lifts as
I remind myself
Life is fleeting.
Life is fragile.
Life is flying.


3 thoughts on “Descending Fog

  1. Such true and profound words. I feel your sadness. I feel you hopefulness. Thanks. I also love the exercise of poetry: So much depends upon our words, piled high in a blog, waiting to be read.


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