Willfully ignoring weight of fog
in morning in its reluctance
to lift away
from the lush forest of trees,
vestiges of summer and long nights.
Not everything is a sign
or maybe all of it is
telling a story I skim distractedly.
Racing through the dull bits
to get to the fire and wind
is how I face my days,
laughingly wondering why
I am unsettled.
Unsure of most things
except for the love I carry
for morning fog after long nights.


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