MY MAKER IS A CRAWDAD!
Fog, I know you well. Think not to see you.
Think not at all to see through you.
New day, new dawn, new birth, but same old fog.
Clearest at your thickest, doubtful when you’re gone.
Clue to your ability to stand in the way
Is nothing as in the stillness of the Cray-
Fish before it turns another stone. No
Thought to hide, no awareness to muddy
Perception can only taste it thought free.
Notice the fog after a birth hiding before us
Until the son grows tall as a tree.
Finally above and below mother fog with
A new walk a new talk today.
Fog keeps my past a stoned throw away.
I must settle into a new gentle bay and
Wait for Crawdad to show my way.
Fog I do know your fare. Thought not and
Looked through you up to my final chair……
– Mark R Ellsworth