Mist, Fog, or Smoke?
What is the atmosphere like today — within and without?
Photo by J. Sharland Day
I looked out the window to check the atmosphere.
Was it misty, foggy, smoky or clear?
I wondered, upon arising that pre-dawn morn,
Knowing the smoke would make me feel quite forlorn
For those thousands of acres that had already burned
And breathing in smoke can be harmful, we’ve learned.
Unable to enjoy the outdoors this beautiful fall time...
Doing anything outdoors would be less than sublime.
I’d be unable to sit out in my precious hot tub
Just soaking and meditating, not needing to scrub.
I’d be in water in the cool morning air
While lounging in warmth, I’d just sit and stare
At nature around me, while I’d watch it awaken
The skies hiding stars away as if they’d been taken.
Hearing songs of the hungry birds, any price I would pay,
Not letting any parsimonious passions get in my way.
Those were my thoughts as I looked out at the light
That protected our house in the dark of the night
And saw that the light was looking oh so demure
But was it dim from fog or smoke, I was not quite sure?
I would have to go outside, the air I would sniff,
For to remain outdoors or stay inside would be a big ‘if’.
I would soon have to make that determination...
Of smelling fresh air or the fire’s damnation,
So, I went to the door to poke my head out
And thought it was fog that was mainly about
There was a small hint of the fire’s destruction
I felt I could be out without much nasal obstruction
And watch as the trees went from vague to obscure
while breathing in air that was not very pure.
I sat alone in that hot tub of water
While watching the ghost trees get lighter and lighter.
Soon they’d be gone as I sat and stared out
While the fog took over the entire lot.
It was thrilling yet scary to be in that white mist
To feel its touch as if I’d been kissed.
I wondered about walking in that undulating white
Or if it would be way too much of a fright.
Photo by J. Sharland Day
Do wicked things happen when surrounded by fog?
Which would not happen if it were mere smog.
For smog would bring a different element to air
Badness for sure and breathing beware.
But with fog, the droplets of atmospheric purity
Its denseness could easily give one complete security
To do what he or she has surreptitiously dreamed
To act out any pure or impure schemes.
Some may want to dance unseen without clothes
Right in front of someone else’s nose,
Or to writhe and moan wearing ungodly fashions
While releasing the fervor of intensely built passions
While others, with a mad evil streak,
Might like to make anyone’s life more bleak
With torturous treats of terror and pain
And to make, with blood, all their clothes a big stain.
My mind is churning out too scary thoughts
And my imagination tying my stomach in knots
I need to think of less deadly things
To calm down and see what a good thought brings.
I should not think of big bears or wolves
Or anything out there with long horns or hooves
That would come through the white mist before I would know
And make me wish that it were just snow.
I sat quietly in my small pool of heat
And watched the morning’s light became a nice treat
As the images became clearer and the fog began to fade
I was happy for the decision earlier I had made
For coming out in the smoky, misty morn to sit
In my hot tub to lay back and relax just a bit
And to once again exercise my imagination a stretch
Knowing that scaring myself can be quite a bitch
But it’s better to break out and get a bit scared
Than to sit around and never let those feelings get bared
Exercising the brain is as important as the body
Don’t want our mind to get stagnant or shoddy.
And so, next time you see the white mist
Or smoke or fog and think you’ve been kissed
By someone or something that just happens by
Unsure and unseen, there’s no need to cry.
Photo by J. Sharland Day