Fog

The grayness of the barren, lifeless scene,
Touching us, chilling us;
Fog is like cat's paws,
Approaching softly and slowly engulfing us,
Only later revealing its claws.
It grins, having succeeded in pouncing,
Surrounding and covering us,
As though it were a heavy wool army blanket
In which to wrap the dead.

© 2001 Koko Jaeger