Fog Watching

An icy winter morning (a sonnet sequence)

Photo by Caleb George on Unsplash

I.
The morning sun peeks through the frosty air,
As tendrils of fog creep on silent feet,
Enveloping the world with hushed despair,
A winter shroud, a mystical white sheet.

The trees stand tall, adorned in icy lace,
Their branches engraved with delicate frost,
Like whispers of winter, frozen embrace,
Nature's artwork, beautifully embossed.

And there, amidst the fog's ethereal haze,
A bright orange fox emerges, swift and sly,
Disguised by the mist's mysterious ways,
In search of sustenance, its keen eyes spy.

Oh, winter morning, so serene and cold,
With fog and frost, a beauty to behold.

II.
As dawn breaks, the fog begins to retreat,
Unveiling the world, slowly bit by bit,
Revealing the wonders beneath its sheet,
The evergreens, adorned in emerald knit.

The frost on leaves, adorns in lacy lines,
Bejeweled ice crystals, shimmering with grace,
The evidence of nature's grand design,
A frozen canvas, woven with no haste.

The bright orange fox, in stealth it does roam,
Its paws treading lightly on frozen ground,
A predator's instinct, its senses honed,
Hunting for prey, without making a sound.

Oh, winter morning, with fog and frost laced,
A magical world, by nature embraced.

III.
The fog has vanished, a memory now,
Replaced by the warmth of the rising sun,
Yet the frost's touch still clings to each branch, bough,
A reminder of what the cold has done.

The evergreen leaves, resilient and strong,
Stand proud and tall, amidst the winter's chill,
Symbols of endurance, all season long,
Guardians of the forest, steadfast and still.

The bright orange fox, with its fiery hue,
Now blends with the vibrant colors of day,
Its hunting complete, its purpose now through,
It vanishes, into the woods to stay.

Oh, winter morning, with fog and frost gone,
Leaving behind a world, pristine and drawn.

IV.
As the day progresses, the fog's hold fades,
Yet, in my mind, its presence still lingers,
The ethereal beauty that it conveyed,
In every thought, extending its fingers.

The frost's touch, like a kind lover's caress,
Has left its mark on nature's every face,
Attesting to winter's cold finesse,
A reminder of its temporary embrace.

And the bright orange fox, forever free,
Roams through the woods, a creature of the wild,
A symbol of resilience, what could be,
In a world where nature is reconciled.

Oh, winter morning, with fog and frost passed,
A timeless beauty, forever to last.

---

Author’s Note

• A couple weeks ago, we had about a foot of snow, then warmer air descended—perfect conditions for fog.

• The morning was frosty, and visibility was low, around 10 feet. You could barely see the trees, but it was a beautiful morning.

• I believe we have a fox den somewhere in our woods. The foxes hunt for rodents and rabbits.

Credits for photos used in the video I created (with the help of Canva) to introduce this post on Instagram and other social media, go to Caleb George, Mads Schmidt Rasmussen, Ricardo Gomez Angel, and Amanda Frank on Unsplash.

Upcoming…

• Passion uncovers truth (a poem):

  Eros, 10 February 2024

Thanks very much for reading, subscribing, and sharing the stories, poetry, and essays in this space. If you like a story, poem, or essay please click on the heart. Also if you are so moved, please leave a comment.