Three Poems from "Sonnet"

I woke

then walked

into fog

rising

from the nearby creek

to shroud the trees

and street

as if

in clothes

of the dead

the bald ugliness

of each day’s

exchange

watched

nearby

--

so we go on

fumbling down

the trail

in the dark

our hands fall

on rough bark

and we look up

beyond the black leaves

somewhere

above the trees

the moon flows quietly

unseen

behind clouds

--

beneath the talk

I swim my past

drowning in shallows

(from "Sonnet,"  a work in progress, Second Quatrain, first line, syllables 1,2 and 3)

(January 2012)