Fog

I hate driving in fog, but it did prompt this poem so it's not all bad. 


Driving in fog 
becomes a terrifying exercise 
in mindfulness;
all distractions banished
while slipping down a funnel 
four cat's eyes long.
Everything ahead and to each side
erased to blank sheets of paper
where anything can be drawn
at a moments notice;
blurry nothingness interrupted
by the halo of oncoming lights,
swishing sounds as each car passes 
too close too fast.


© Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.

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