Clearing

The fog is lifting from the hills
Nature’s industrial smokestacks.

I can see through holes in the mist
The wet chlorophyll leaves
Reflecting spots of sun-light.

I know, given time and sun
The fog will be gone and
The hills clear and perfect.

The fog vanishes and I
Question the clarity
My own mind still in a fog.

Where is my clarity?

Puma/MMIX
Copyright 2009: Tony Puma
‘Voices in my head, verses to be read’.