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Language of Enchantment

The fairy fog hovered

like a low-lying spell

stretching out and

gliding towards.

She covered all she touched

in whispering shades of mercurial gray

and hid the horizon’s sharp crease

within the billowing heft

of her folds.

By the time she reached me,

she was sprinkling cool kisses

of silver-speckled mist

causing ice to melt

mud to warm

winter to thaw.

Her soft, muzzy glow

elicited secrets…

longings now known.

She welcomed what came

with wide arm acceptance

and offered me a permissive nod

to stay where I was

splayed out upon the couch

some place between lazy and languid

with my notebook closed

my pen untouched

windows open.

I lay where I was

lingering and releasing

my grip on language

its rings and rungs

softening into this sacred space

where words are absent

and wonder revived.

- Lauren Taub Cohen


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