Midweek Tales: About Fog

I think I’ve covered the interesting stories I could find about the tales of Britain for now; if I come across anymore, I’ll be sure to share them. I thought it was time I worked on my writing as I’ve probably taken a long enough break from it.

The weather these past few days has been awful over here – freezing fog overnight; very foggy conditions during the day… damp, miserable, tedious driving, especially as some people don’t even bother putting their headlights on!

Thinking of the fog on the stable run yesterday afternoon, I came up with this…

Three random letters
Three small, little letters
Jumbled together
To make up a word
But how can three letters
Three small, simple letters
Make a word large enough to describe
The unsettling, eerie obscuring
Of the world so familiar
The world shrunk right down
Till you’re surrounded
By walls without colour
You look out the door
To find the world has turned grey
If you step either way
Will you fall into nothingness?
You laugh, silly thought…
But it teases you softly
As you move, almost blindly
Through the grey swirling around you
Slowly revealing
Ghosts there before you
Of things unfamiliar
Then you smile, feeling foolish
For these things are familiar
You see every day
But the fog, little word
That small three letter word
Has turned everything
Spooky and grey.

And yet…
That cold fog
The cold, freezing fog
Makes the familiar
Beautiful too.


Frozen spider web on the clothes drier, laden with dew… looks like a bejewelled hair net…