Fog
A poem by Barbara Zucker
Fog
From a place that is not near,
I look hard to meet it.
A ribbon of blue,
gray,
and green unfurls.
The blue sky
is hesitant,
and waits its turn.
The gray fog
enjoys its place,
limited as it is.
The green lake,
secure in this competition,
waits lazily.
I practice patience,
watching for the fog
to submit.
About the Author:
Barbara Zucker grew up in Brooklyn, New York. Her family has influenced many of her memory poems. Upon retirement, she joined a writer’s group which encouraged her to write about relationships with new friends as well as the beauty of the North Carolina mountains. Inspiration comes to her in many forms. Barbara finds enrichment in the creative process of writing poetry as well as the joy she receives in sharing it.
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Poetry Breakfast 
October 8, 2024 at 10:09 AM
Some(most)times, the thinning of the grey and the lake’s greenish victory in its attempt to merge into the sky’s blue is so subtle that it goes totally unnoticed and unheralded except for those (rarest) mornings when a patient (and talented) poet such as yourself comes along to capture it perfectly, as you’ve done here. Thank you.
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