The Fog Poem by Theresa Ann Moore

A veiled wall of misty low hanging clouds
Mysteriously conceals and restrictively shrouds.
Visibility is far from marvelous this morning…
Travelers appear from the fog with no warning.

With uneasiness, I peer into the cold space ahead.
I am in familiar surroundings, but feel lost instead.
The road before me beckons, as I apply the brake…
Accelerating without caution could be a serious mistake.

Sounds of distress are now heard from beyond my view.
No doubt someone has had an unintentional rendezvous.
Preparing to continue, I take a deep breath and start to pray.
I hope my boss will understand the reason for my delay…
.