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95. fog

.

a pelt of thick fog

white as christmas woke with me

just before dawn, moving

.

slowly, restlessly

against the brittle branches 

of thorn acacia bushes. 

those branches tore

bits off the fog and

the fog healed itself

.

over and over.

Posted byNatalieJune 8, 2024Posted inUncategorizedTags:fog, poetryLeave a comment on 95. fog
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