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When I was young…before I could speak…before I was capable of dialogue…

unbeknownst to my parens…I saw life through a fog.

Everything my eyes could see…looked like a painting by Monet

I didn’t know I saw the world differently…I was born that way.

I thought everyone had eyes like mine…and saw the world like me…

It would be years till I got glasses and could see the world that others see.

With only my eyes or with my glasses on…my world was as different as night and day.

I either saw the details of DaVinci…or through the haze of a Monet.

Yesterday, however, for a little while my world took a different spin.

The skies were clear when we began our walk…then slowly…the fog rolled in.

As the fog moved in and over us…as it blanketed the shore.

I thought to myself…this is wonderful…I don’t need my glasses anymore.

So I took them off and for a moment played this little game…

with my glasses on or with them off…everything looked the same.

Yes, once the fog engulfed the people, the cars, the beach…the trees…

I realized, at that moment, everyone there was seeing the world I see.

So I put my glasses in my pocket…and for a few minutes at the beginning of the day…

I welcomed everyone I met…into my world…and the beauty of Monet.

There is a mysterious almost eerie beauty to the fog and her tapestry of grey

It’s as if we’ve found ourselves immersed in a painting by Monet.

As the fog begins to blanket us…holding the sun at bay

all the boundaries that divide the world…for a moment…fade away.

All the colors become muted…blend together…co-exist…

perhaps that is the wonder of the fog…the beauty of the mist.

I grew up believing heaven was high above the clouds…where everything was white.

Where there was only love…no pain…no suffering…no bigotry…no spite.

Where all the things that divide us here on Earth when we get to heaven cease…

Where we spend an eternity among the clouds living in kindness, and friendship and peace.

But I wonder if the Gods are trying to show us as the fog they send us is unfurled

If blurred boundaries and muted colors are how we’re meant to see the world.

That, if here on Earth we can make all the things that divide us finally cease,

then we can live a lifetime here… in kindness, and friendship and peace.

Now I think the heaven of my youth can be thought of a different way…

that it doesn’t have to be white or in the clouds…that heaven can be grey.

That the heaven I grew up believing in…doesn’t have to be an epilogue…

That all we have to do is look around…and find our heaven in the fog.

I began my walk in silence this morning…save for the muffled barking of a dog…as overnight the clouds descended and cloaked the Earth in fog.

It’s on cool mornings such as this…with the fog muting all details…I’m reminded how the Earth is alive and breathing…as I walk through her exhales.

I love walking in an early morning fog…where all colors are stripped away…for the more I walk…the more I realize…there’s so much beauty in the gray.

Some people may find sadness in the mist…may see it more like smog…but I, for one, am blessed to find happiness in the fog. 

When the fog drifts down to visit…I feel a kind of inner peace…every sound is muted…all boundaries seem to cease.

I’ve learned to see the beauty in her obscurity…that without the fog I cannot see…the way she blends together with the rocks, the sky…the ocean…the flowers and the trees.

The fog reminds me how life is ephemeral when I’m surrounded by her at the break of day…for I know if I wait long enough…the fog will fade away.

And when she lifts her blanket…I know there’s no telling the wonders I might feel…from the sounds she will unveil…to the colors she’ll reveal.

I’ve been blessed to know the pleasure of playing in the sun…

of counting stars in the evening sky when the day is done…

of dancing in the rain…

of standing by a lake listening to the singing of the frogs…

And one of my most cherished blessings will always be…

walking in the fog.

We went on a hike to the top of a mountain…on a morning still sprinkled with dew…

anticipating all the way up..and once at the top..we were in for some wonderful views.

We knew we would see forever…in the sky…high above the pines

but the more we walked..the more we realized nature had other designs.

A fog rolled in…obstructing our view….covering the land surrealistically 

so we focused on what was in front of us…all the things we were able to see…

We saw the beauty of the fog…the way it moves…how to the trees and mountains it clings.

We noticed how, even in the fog, flowers bloom and birds continue to sing.

We watched at times the fog soar up and other times crawl across the trees…and we wondered does the breeze control the fog or does the fog control the breeze. 

We felt the fog roll over us…like ghosts floating through the air

leaving behind a bit of dampness…on our clothes…on our hands…in our hair.

We noticed that moisture on the flowers and plants…making them shine as it helps them to grow…we saw how the fog in the distance…covered the land like a blanket of snow… 

We noticed there was magic in the fog…magic we never knew…

turning trees into magicians as they faded in…and then out of our view.

We found more magic in a large rock surrounded by rose petals…

and although the ceremony was through…

we imagined a couple standing there…

smiling…both of them saying I do.

Yes…we went looking for beauty on the mountain….

we had a certain kind of beauty in our heads…

but unable to see the beauty we came for…

we found our beauty in the fog instead.

He loves to walk in the morning fog…he loves to look around

to feel the mist upon his face….and watch the cloud hover over the ground.

This morning’s felt a little different…he could not help denying

there was a faint sound, somewhat muffled….as if the fog was crying.

“What’s the matter fog?” he asked. “Why are you so blue?”

Why are you so sad today?  Is there anything I can do?”

“Thank you, no.” the fog whispered for the fog never talks too loud.

“I am just a morning fog…when I’d much rather be a cloud.”

“But you are a cloud.” The young boy said. “the best cloud of any around.”

It just so happens you’re a cloud that floats above the ground.”

“But I don’t want to float above the ground,” the cloud said as he pointed to the sky.

I want to be up there…I want to soar…I want to fly.”

The young boy smiled.  "But don’t you see that is the wonder of you.” he said

“You make the morning beautiful as across the land you spread.”

“You add to the ground a tranquil beauty… but when the sun rises you say goodbye

and you float up to the heavens and add your beauty to the sky.”

“Are you sure?” The fog asked the young boy as he stretched across the land

“I’m sure.” The young boy replied.  “Wait a little while and you will understand.”

“Will you wait here with me?” The fog asked. The young boy nodded his head.

“To see you fly up to the sky.…would be my honor.” he said.

And so they waited there together and the boy enjoyed the mist upon his eyes

and when the sun peeked over the horizon the fog smiled as she danced up to the sky.

“Goodbye fog.” the boy said as the fog brushed against his head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” the fog cried.

I’ll be waiting, the young boy said.

RUMINATIONS ON THE FOG

I awoke this morning to silence 

save the croaking of a solitary frog.

The clouds had descended from the heavens

cloaking the mountain in a blanket of fog…

On this cool summer morning in September

with the fog spreading everywhere…

I’m reminded how the Earth is alive…

for her breath was everywhere. 

There is a calmness in the morning fog

all boundaries seem to cease…

There is a peace that overcomes us…

and there is beauty in the peace….

Some people may see sadness in the mist

as it envelopes every stream, every sapling, every log

But I see happiness and I wonder :

Would the sun seem as alluring…

if it wasn’t for the fog?

And isn’t life is a little like the fog…

The path ahead of us may not always be clear

But if we stop to enjoy the beauty of the walk

the answers soon appear.

I wish everyone could walk in the morning fog

because being shrouded on a stroll

and dancing in the misty solitude

is one way to find our soul.

Fog enveloped us this morning…it was a beautiful sight to see

as it blanketed the mountain…the cabin and the trees.

I remembered back to when I was a child…when I first saw fog..and I…

thought fog was just a bunch of clouds that had fallen from the sky.

I didn’t know the science then…it’d be years till I was told…

I thought it was only Mother Nature…breathing in the cold.

Back then I didn’t take notice how it cloaked the ground, the ponds, the logs

Back then I didn’t understand there was beauty in the fog.

Now I know the pleasure of playing in the sun

Of counting stars in the evening sky once the day is done.

Of dancing in the rain…of listening to the frogs…

Of feeling the mist upon my face while walking in the fog.

I’ve learned there’s beauty in the silence…in ways we cannot see

In the fog, the rocks, the clouds, the sky…the flowers and the trees.

Fog reminds me life is ephemeral…when surrounded at the break of the day

I know, if I wait long enough…the fog will fade away.

And when it lifts there is no telling the wonders I will feel

As I see waiting under…the colors she reveals.

Today when I look out on a morning and I see fog…I sigh

For once again I’m happy the clouds have fallen from the sky…