When The Fog Comes In

Our mountain stands parched in the California sun

Dried yellow paths rimmed by cracking, breaking bush

When the fog comes in

I watch her breathe

Drinking the soft moisture into her gut

Expiring life into the grey

Coyotes roll in her wet

Hints of yellow-green life become bursts of lush

She has risen!

8 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Susan L Daniels
    May 10, 2012 @ 05:52:02

    Jennifer, loved this–the fog reviving the mountain.

    Reply

    • jeglatter
      May 10, 2012 @ 18:01:07

      Thanks Susan, I think I need to work on a pronoun here or something…I hit publish before I was done…have you done that yet? Have a good night. -Jennifer

      Reply

  2. nelle
    May 10, 2012 @ 11:09:53

    So vivid, and leaves me wishing I was once again visiting the Bay Area. 😦

    Reply

  3. carolisle
    May 10, 2012 @ 16:18:48

    coyotes roll in her wet…beautiful!

    Reply

    • jeglatter
      May 10, 2012 @ 18:00:00

      🙂 Thank you! I haven’t seen them do this. I have just seen them come down miserable hot…I picture it to be beautiful. -Jennifer

      Reply

  4. flowerpoet
    May 11, 2012 @ 07:16:36

    This beautifully written poem has transported me from Vancouver Island to California in seconds. Thanks for the imagery!

    Reply

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