Monday, March 12, 2012


image by tony martin


A delicate fuzz of fog
like mold, or moss,
all across the river
in this early light.
Another day, I might
have still been sleeping.

What a pity. How the stars
and seas and rivers
in their fragile lace of fog
go on without us
morning after morning,
year after year.
And we disappear.

Pat Schneider

Posted over on the Writer's Almanac

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Excellent and depressing lol.....