Fog

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

~ Carl Sandburg

Carl Sandburg got it right in his poem Fog. Fog has a way of narrowing our vision, focusing us on what is close even though we know there is so much more out there. In the fog sounds are muffled, smells are muted, senses must be strained or given into and we slow down. Fog allows us time with the here and now instead of the now and then.

This morning we have our own fog milling between the trees, crawling across the landscape softening all the hard and sharp edges. Soon the wind will come up and shake this blanket off but for a short while all is still.

Our weekend was foggy, except for my brief foray into the darkness of anger. I snapped out of it. Mike came home and we are no worse for the wear. We focused on the here and now. Spent time with friends. Mike had is first Martini. We gardened, had friends stop by. There was a fish fry with Jon and Trish. Brats, beer and a lot of Brandy with Jeff & Cindi. Dianne brought us a picnic complete with her famous potato salad but, "no buns because this isn't a pity party." Karen O missed us but left medicinal chocolate. There was Star Trek, wow...really fun ride... a trip to Home Depot but mostly there was time for Mike and Karen to be together and that's something we are very good at.

There is an unbelievable closeness between us now. Not that we weren't close before it's just that it's so focused at this moment just like when you stand in a thick fog and have to move very close to an object before you can clearly identify that it's something you know.

So for now I'll take the fog because it's hard to say when the wind will lift it away and reveal the bigger picture. Maybe next Monday? I don't know? Until then I'm going to enjoy these softer days. I'm gonna just sit here on my little cat feet and look over the city until it's time to move on.

~Karen