#66 of 365 – “fog”



it is beautiful the way the tops of trees

and buildings disappear


hard lines softened like echoes

swallowed up in the atmosphere


the day’s blemishes are covered

by a merciful veneer


and loneliness is muted

to a whisper one can barely hear


I wish I had my own fog

to roll in over my neurosis


and cushion my anxieties

and fade out the awful voices


About Blackbird

Poet, sculptor, jewelry maker, writer, spouse, parent, crazy person - not necessarily in that order.
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