Produced by Maine Poetry Central and Dennis Camire

This week’s poem is by Ellen Taylor of Appleton and the University of Maine at Augusta. Her most recent book is “Compass Rose” published by Moon Pie Press.

Song to the Fog

By Ellen Taylor

In April, as the snowfields melt,

as the ribbons of water fall down

from the ridge, from the blueberry

barrens as the ground softens beneath my boots,

the fog sweeps in, settling over the hills

the tree tops, thickening the air

like silver velvet molecules as I climb over granite

ledges, lichen coming to life, berry bushes

coming to bud, pink and swollen.

My little house lies below, nestled in her foggy cloak,

a curl of smoke whispering from her chimney.

Beyond, the roar of the Saint George

River rising, rushing over rock, spurting around corners

in a hurry to reach the sea. Fog, bless you, bless

the moss, the leaves, the dew in my hair,

Bless this moment of water rushing to meet its source,

from sky to air to earth, and me witness to it

in April, as the snowfields melt.

Dennis Camire can be reached at [email protected]