posted on:2023 years
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If I look 
 or if I don't look 
 clouds are always passing over 
 the place I live. 
 
 The place I live 
 passing under 
 my feet while my mind wanders 
 in a sea of fog. 
 
 On a ridge 
 seeing through a hole in the fog 
 ("A thought out of nowhere comes passing through") 
 I say to myself 
 ("I say to myself, like a voice on the wind") 
 "Behold" 
 but I see nothing. 
 Rocks and water and wood 
 not speaking to me. 
 ("Left alone to wander above") 
 Slow and uneasy and alive. 
 ("wanderer above the sea of fog") 
 
 I mean the place lives 
 and clouds pass over 
 ("sitting on a ridge and watching clouds pass over") 
 the landscape 
 a blanket on stone 
 ("where an ocean of glaciers rolled") 
 Land waves are rolling. 
 ("Through a fog, this is a brief life.") 
 ("Short and cold, momentarily.") 
 ("A life as brief as the morning fog") 
 Momentarily, 
 I come out from under.
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