2012 -- 4.2 (Spring) Poetry

Misty Hour

By:  Caleb Wendell Jordan

Clouds descend


a single boat, drifting unhurried through

the haze.

Mist envelops the currents, tides,


I can touch the gray skies

which hang closely above my head

in the aether.

I push againt the mist

to uncover something beyond.

To have light paralyze me.

But it is not visible,

only the ominous shadows

in the distance exist

beside me.