Fog. {Poem}

Lately, I feel like I’m sitting on the dock at dawn. 
Fog thick as molasses smothering it all. 
I know it is there: 
The moment I’m in and the unborn day.
I can hear her lapping against the fiberglass.
The seagulls have congregated on the shore to recite their morning prayer. 
The wires of the mainsail chime with the mast. 
The breeze gently presses against the misty curtain,
Trying to graciously push it out of the way, 
So I can see–
So I can see what lies ahead for me. ~Rebecca

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