Electromagnetic Fog Poem by Tor Magnor Solvang

The sky, a clear blue sheet,
Then gray creeps in, bittersweet.
No rain falls, no clouds appear,
Just something wrong, a growing fear.

The compass spins, a dizzy dance,
The radio hums, no clear chance
To speak, to call, to find the way,
Lost in a fog, that's not of day.

A pilot's fright, a sailor's dread,
Surrounded by a haze of lead.
The instruments fail, the lights grow dim,
Trapped in the fog, electric grim.

They say it moves, a restless thing,
On silent waves, the shadows cling.
A mystery deep, in ocean's hold,
A story whispered, never told.