The AtHome Pilgrim

Musings at a Slower Pace


Philly area, Pennsylvania, USA
"Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita," I find myself still asking some of the same questions I did when I was just a punk kid. The Big Things confuse me. Fortunately, though, many little things delight and amuse me, and some Big Things--my wife, our kids, our bird and bunny visitors, food, baseball--make me very, very happy. In my pilgrimage, I try to be guided by the wisdom of dear old Auntie Mame: "Life is a banquet!"


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MARCH 23, 2012 8:17AM

Foggy . . . Morning?

Rate: 11 Flag

Fog blankets sky
as snow covers ground in colder times,
blurring all,
casting pall of sameness across heavens,
blocking light,
absorbing remnant thoughts of new day.

Snow can be shoveled aside
plowed through,
yea, walked or skied over.
Fog broods, suffocates
fond dreams,
frustrates efforts to remove it through stifling
paradoxically physical but ephemeral,
a substance without substance,
a matter of matter without matter,
no heft, no time, but, yes, height and length,
clammy pillow against which we cannot lay our heads
nor essay to fluff in our particular way—
no comfort in gloating fog.

Helpless, we scan expanse of colorless
with lonely hope sun will melt it away,
bring color, light, life
to our world.

Words © 2012 AtHome Pilgrim. 

All Rights Reserved.

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paradoxically physical--what a great description, almost seems a shame to use it on something as ephemeral as fog:)
Best wishes for the colourless blah to lift soon, dear Mr P.
WOW. Rated with admiration.
"Helpless, we scan expanse of colorless
with lonely hope sun will melt it away,
bring color, light, life
to our world. "
One thing for sure, you can't hide the poetic beauty in this post!
pilgrim, this is a great line and it's got me smiling from ear to ear:

Helpless, we scan expanse of colorless

it's PERFECT. helpless in the face of colorless blah! UGH.

big hug my friend. soon soon soon. :)
I know it shuts all things out and your prose rings so true but give it a chance because the fog rings true.
yep. fog is weird and has no redeeming qualities i can think of. plus it conjures up words like moist and damp and spooky, none of which are my favorites. you came up with 'clammy pillow' which is a terrific descriptor but makes my cheek cold. brrrrr. nice work, pilgrim.
It's a real pea souper of a morning here, too. Lovely poem, dense with atmosphere.
came on little cat feet.....
I am enveloped in fall and spring, evenings and mornings. drove all the way to Philly under a fog cloud yesterday.
hello neighbor
Colorless Blah pretty much says it all...a perfect description of all kinds of fog.
I loved this description, "a substance without substance, a matter of matter without matter, no heft, no time, but, yes, height and length." It was in England that I first encountered inpenetrable fog and I was enthralled by the "there, not there, so this is what the inside of a cloud is like" feeling. I felt I was breathing cloud, absorbed into cloud, blanketed by cloud, but I'm a "cool, moist" person so fog it a little bit of heaven on earth for me!! I loved your poetic perspective!!!
absorbing remnant thoughts of a new day.... you have some lovely phrasing in this poem. Only so much we can control in life. Great poem. R
John: Yes, but it seemed pretty substantial that day.

Kate: Thanks for the thought. We'll see . . .

Michelle: Many thanks for being wowed.

ILL: Sure it wasn't obscured?

Monkey: Can't be soon enough!!

Algis: Well, it is what it is, right. Something we have to live with--or through.

candv: Clearly (ironically) appreciated.

candace: Hope your cheeks are warmer now. Wait, I'm not sure that came out right . . .

Sarah: Many people have said I'm dense, though not often with atmosphere . . .

rita s: That was the day that prompted the poem. (The next day's fog was an insipid sort of thing not worthy of the name.)

MH: Thanks for getting it.

Jersey: I always thought you were a cool person!

Rita B: Very little, it would seem. (And certainly not the atmospherics!)