Neither sight nor sound
No sound from the block
of pale cold beyond the door,
the dense cloud fabric of the fog.
Not even the racing of the stream,
the cry of the owl
pierces this ineluctable winter pall.
No moon in sight, its light diffused in dark silver,
this anger is all, this clenching of the fist,
furious breath steaming with cold.
If I could, I would shift the axis of this world,
and keep all its beating hearts warm
until the morning.
Words from the poemetry unit
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Jane Dougherty Writes 
There is a hush that descends with the fog at the edge of a day, the skirt of a night.
That’s a lovely way to put it. I wish it would go away though.
Beautiful poem, Jane!
Thank you!
Joanna
I’m pleased you like it. The fog is getting to me though.
I hope you get some sunshine and warmer weather soon. That last stanza is so fiercely tender.
It’s 12 F here right now.
Don’t! I couldn’t stand that. It’s cold here, far colder than it ought to be, but nothing like that.
Woke up to fog again, and the light’s almost gone now (6pm) and the fog is just as thick. I feel as though we’re in that Steven King story…
It sounds scary!
Our temperature is going up today–up to 30 now, and 40s overnight, so the snow we’re supposed to get will turn to rain. Maybe we’ll get fog. . .
You’re welcome to some of ours. It’s still thick outdoors.
No, that’s OK. We’ve got rain now, and a wind advisory coming.
I heard the North East was in for some very fierce weather. Have you got it?
No, it’s really not too bad here right now. (Perhaps I should just whisper that.) It’s cloudy and windy, but not too extreme.
Good! It was mentioned on our news this morning but not since. Maybe it never happened.
I think maybe other places got it.
😦
Just like staring into the abyss. (K)
It’s getting to me.
More grey for us too.
I hope you get nothing worse.