Gift of Fog

Fog hangs low
on a mountain road.
We don’t even

pretend to see
what lies ahead,
and the secret

of where
we’re going
is all the better for it.

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As Heavy and as Light as One Small Stone

Lift me
from where I lie
in the weather

and the sunshine, where
for a thousand years,
I’ve watched white clouds

turn lions
into tea kettles.
Hold me

in your hand,
like a treasured stone,
and turn me over.

Beneath me
find the worms
and mud, and dig

into the fertile roots
that churn
with sweet life.

And when you find
you have reached
hard granite,

please find a way
to keep on digging
so that you hit

my hot and molten core,
where surely we
we will both be burned.

But we are not.

And all the while,
you hold me gently
in your upturned palm,
and I have no fear
of falling.