Sunday, September 1, 2013

pocket of fog

In the yard next door,
a pocket of fog like a small heard of bison
swallows azaleas, koi pond, the red-and-gold koi.

To be undivided must mean not knowing you are.

The fog grazes here, then there,
all morning browsing the shallows,
leaving no footprint between my fate and the mountain's.

~ Jane Hirshfield
from After


erin said...

expunged from self, the cleanest of clean. perhaps this is why I have always been so drawn to fog?

and yet hirshfield does something remarkable in this small poem, not only does she clean us, but she gives the great equalizer presence as bison. she tips my mind.