…and as the smoke rolls away
And a new fog-like mist emerges
And I leave all who is Home to me
Tell me there’ll be sun today….
How long’s it been, baby
Since a wind came to your window
A breeze of the bilowy sort
And though it arrived loud
How many days, mama
The fog, it clogged your lungs
A freedive into the depths
And through its grey unknown
I think I comprehend the incomprehensible, the reprehensible, I think.
I guess the fog plans to stay and behave as more than a mere misbehaving vapor, I guess.
Certainly courage or cowardice or the wordless touch of one true friend will keep me from certainty.
I hope there’ll be fog
And some small clearing
And though I cannot command it
The situation would demand it
Given all the blind searching
The hanging heavy in the air
The rain always looming off-shore
I want the Sun to wait in complete quiet
Just that once
As it bounces inside with anticipation
Over who is about to receive his newly perfected knuckle ball
Here beyond the first
base line, I believe you can
get all the way home.
Mere meters from me
A lone lighthouse
Must stand -it must
The fog its job to daze me
I close my eyes and long-last see
Standing there solitary
Sending out three calls
The no-longer-lost craft will yield
And find her port
What to believe in this fog