Fog
Fog thickened over the backyard
buttering shrubs and hedges
lathering corners and shadowing
the open space like a heavy shawl
over the body of the widow
like your shout over my soft
whisper like a chick’s call
in the frost-covered trees
vacant of leaves but potent still
trees perched next to one other
made of wood marionettes set to be
shaken and rejuvenated
by the April rays poised to be startled
by the moving will of the immovable
Libros Libertad 