Did you see the fog slip away?
As night chased by day, she went
Though three days she held the world
In her grip and slid in shifts
But never loosened nor lifted
By the most slight of breezes
That might have pushed her loose from us.
But no, she held, as Dickens would have known,
Tenaciously frozen to the dark firs and shuttered homes.
And then she went as though the trump called her home
Leaving ecstatic heretics giggling
In blatant sun worship before the naked heavens.
RootsRewound 