Stephanie Rearick Twilight Fog
The twilight fogis one still breath
Just like the wet
and tender kiss of
death
and when they ask
what became of you
I turn my eyes to a
sparkling drop of dew
The geese cry out
They're not home yet
They cut a hazy figure
overhead
And when they turn
and bid you fond adieu
A ghostly chill
settles over you
