A dense grey fog rolls in
creeping from the winter lake.
Smothering the colors or the day
it coats all the eye can see
clinging to every possible shape
creating a surreal blurred world.
Hazy smudged edges
mere outlines of shapes
the fog hidden outdoors waits.
Is it bland this fog?
How it maims our vision?
Steals the colors from our hungry eyes?
Carefully hiding the objects of the distance?
Perhaps it is misunderstood
this fog, this mist
that "harms" the vivid pictures
our minds "would have" painted.
Thoughtfully it brings in the beauty
keeping it safe in its depths
holding the world close.
It keeps it from our scrutinizing eyes.
Until the wise fog
all the images of the outdoors
had gone seen yet unprocessed.
Such a selfless fog
it covers it's friend the sun
protectively sheltering it
so that the next time it peeks its head
to enthusiastically greet our eyes
the welcome will be returned.