Fog is thick on the
Lake today
Some might call
It ghoulish

Heron seems to
Think me a ghoul
As my footfall on
The wooden bridge
Disrupts her fishing

She squawks
And glides away

A tentative rain
Drop by drops
Duels with the dawn

Dawn is winning
Gradually revealing
The distant trees

A long week —
Some might even
Call it ghoulish –
Has brought me
Here at last

To lean on this
Sturdy railing
Chill in the air
Pencil in hand

It is good to write again

October 30, 2014

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