THE FOG SONG

by Joanna Gilman Hyde

The Hawk Deck 3:25

The Surf is rising —

I hear It beyond

the fog-wafted scrub spruce

to The North

It is calling Me:

The Waves surge through My Limbs

then subside

while I get My Breath

My Art is in My Pen

driven by My Surroundings:

today the breezy fog

accompanied by horns

low-pitched

meshes with a Chickadee’s chirp

as I relinquish all longing

& bask in My SELF