Sherman L. Fowler

(Cahokia, IL, USA)


Poem by Sherman L. Fowler

The fog rolls
over under and through,
hiding Black rocks.
It turns and tumbles
unaware of time,
dispersing itself into the elements.
Carved images burst forth
vomiting tidings
only the mind can hear.

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Read poems about / on: fog, time

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003