Thread: When I go

When I go

I’d like there to be a gentle mist
like those days on the farm
when the thick fog would roll in and
the misty rain would go on forever

It was comforting somehow for the
blankets of fog to blur the barn
behind the house and to hear
the hidden cattle mooing in that grey
thickness, the moisture condensing
and dripping from their wet nostrils
and the chewing, chewing, always chewing


Kenny A. Chaffin – 3/26/2011

I really enjoyed reading this, you captured the ethereal quality of the fog beautifully. I was enchanted by the mystery of this poem. Peace...Jul

Thank you Jul! Appreciate your reading and commenting!
(btw, the date... I started it way back then and just finished revising it this week. )

I like the almost whimsical nature of this one Kenny, very nice! My only nit is with the line breaks, but that is often a personal preference thing.

Thanks Gumby. I appreciate your input.