Except for the gray

fogToday I walked

In the gray

In the quiet

of the fog.

 

It was my usual path.

Twisted oaks,

golden grass,

steady breath.

 

But the road was obscured,

The path unknown.

Nothing

except my feet,

the autumn chill.

 

A rustle,

a distant engine,

a whisper.

They weren’t with me.

They were not mine.

They couldn’t see me.

 

All I saw was me.

Except for the gray.

It stayed in the shade

waiting for the sun.

 

There is much I don’t know.

And much I do.

 

Right now

the strength of my legs,

the openness of my heart,

That there are still surprises

beyond the fog.

 

What you cannot see yet,

It is as beautiful

and as valuable as

What stands before you

bathed in light.