conversation with the foghorn

Photo: Creative Commons

Photo: Creative Commons


just before sleep I hear the sound

of a foghorn in the distance

at a mid-octave pitch to mimic a mother’s song

the tone echoes in blue fog and winter ice

searching for a captive listener off-shore


I dream the cold night air

where I see myself under a streetlight

where my breath carries into the vapors

until the foghorn catches it

and I breathe again into the damp air


a sound

a breath

a sound

a breath

a kindred back-and-forth


our conversation continues

enrapt in a thick fog of voices that lifts only at daybreak

when words reverberate into the waking distance

until clear skies render my breath transparent

and sunrise forces the foghorn into silence



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s


Art & Writing Services


Where one writer and observer of the human condition shares what she's reading, writing, and thinking...

At The Wellhead

Soundings From a Protean Aquifer

%d bloggers like this: