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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