Walking a Shrouded Shore

Walking a Shrouded Shore

Today the Great Lake is small,

A mere pond for all that one can see,

Its vastness shrunken by a veil of mist

Just offshore.

Interesting stuff, fog:

Water wanting to become air,

And ending-up neither.

But, before one’s eyes,

Changing all it envelops.

Shape-shifting illusions

In a whisper of wind.

Boot tracks in the sand.

Is that a man up ahead?

No...a ghostly tree.

Is that land offshore?

No...a swirling island of vapor.

What is that floating in the murk?

A lone gull marks where, in this hazy world,

The fog ends and the water begins.

Even fiery old Solius is shrouded today,

Cloaked in a sodden grey robe.

We know his flames will prevail in the end.

Though now, before air becomes just air again,

His misty sister rules the shore.