a fog seduces me, and
enveloped in its cool crisp, i relax
into my vigil.

when you arrive, the fog parts,
splits around your approaching form,
drapes languidly across your naked
shoulders like a mink, or a paramour's exhalations

and i watch - oh, do i watch - but the fog is slippery,
and i listen, but the mist swallows your sounds;
and the only smell is the crisp damp of the fog,
masked behind the taste of summer storms come and gone.

with four senses blinded, i gather my strength and reach out into the gray...