May 6, 2009
To The Valley Fog
by Don Campbell
Through the bedroom window
You are there in the morning
Filling every space with snow-like silence
Fooling the northerner with your whiteness
Covering the tops of trees and the roof line of tall buildings
You soften every edge in town
Drip off gutter corners into the streets
Leaving a trail the cats avoid
The valley surface thirsty from a long summer’s drought
Is glad for any water…even yours now dirty
From the dust and grime you’ve trickled off
The leaves and the stone walls
The people are troubled because you break
Their speed as they drive to work
Hawks stay put in their trees waiting for you to rise
Seems like all life hesitates to move
Down by the river, crawling
Through traffic to work or walking
The wet streets to school a few people
Stop in silhouette damp and cold
They pause like phantoms
Gazing into your luminous power
Then move along their way
Shining from within