Produced by Maine Poetry Central and Dennis Camire
This week’s poem is by Ellen Taylor of Appleton and the University of Maine at Augusta. Her most recent book is “Compass Rose” published by Moon Pie Press.
Song to the Fog
By Ellen Taylor
In April, as the snowfields melt,
as the ribbons of water fall down
from the ridge, from the blueberry
barrens as the ground softens beneath my boots,
the fog sweeps in, settling over the hills
the tree tops, thickening the air
like silver velvet molecules as I climb over granite
ledges, lichen coming to life, berry bushes
coming to bud, pink and swollen.
My little house lies below, nestled in her foggy cloak,
a curl of smoke whispering from her chimney.
Beyond, the roar of the Saint George
River rising, rushing over rock, spurting around corners
in a hurry to reach the sea. Fog, bless you, bless
the moss, the leaves, the dew in my hair,
Bless this moment of water rushing to meet its source,
from sky to air to earth, and me witness to it
in April, as the snowfields melt.
Dennis Camire can be reached at email@example.com