Dad the Secret
Dad the Dread
Dad and empty words he said.
Dad the Absent
Dad the Lost
Dad I wanted at any cost.
Dad the Guilty
Dad the Frail
Dad who always seemed to fail.
Dad the Gone now
Dad the Still
Dad the Sorrow that always will.
March 7, 2017
As I stepped outside a number of nights ago, I became enveloped within a grounded cloud. The wind was silent yet there, and I stood in captivity in the vapors. Certain I had dropped in upon celestial passages, I became inspired to pen this little poem.
A Fog Song
Sometimes the spirits employ at night
Transforming fog and dark and light
They spring out sideways and up and down
Their destinations outward bound.
They dance and tumble and forward go
Billowing out with a rapid flow
Falling, fleeting, crawling, leaping
Effervescent with vapors seeping…
They’re more than cloud but not quite mist
Silent yet vocal with a sound like sliss
Illuminated with burst from a lamp
These spirits of fog too quick to be damp
They land on my hair and my head and my face
Promenade on with no time to waste…
Oh, where are you going my phantoms so blithe?
Where shall you sojourn Fog Spirits of Night?
By Dorothy D. Hagan
January 26, 2017