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Foggiest


09.18.17 Posted in today's words by

Gwen Monohan’s most recent poem to appear here was “Crimson Tide” (August 2017)

Foggiest
By Gwen Monohan

Mist drifts on valley farms
most mornings now.
Days still warm, nights cool.
Colored leaves wrinkled crisp
after early sun breaks through,
burning off the haze.

When addled senior,
Bessie Dee, drives
once more her smoking
aged Granada. Straddling
the center line to retrieve
more groceries in a fog.

Her mind steers cloudy too
later when she leaves
on flattened tire rims.
Muddling home off balance
to stack cans of condensed soup
on her cluttered porch.



2 Responses to “Foggiest”

  1. Wayne Russell says:

    I like this poem, felt like I was caught in the moment.

  2. Fran says:

    Great poem and so true with some our age.

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