Fog womb

The soft damp air curdled as the sun went in.
Fog wrapped us tight in its velvet night blanket.

I stood where the trees loomed over me;
my small breath tumbling up to join the bigger breath of night.

Out on the waters the low base boom of boats
fog-horning the darkness
rippled the mist with long low seismic songs. 

In the womb-dark wet air where the disembodied sounds
like voices, lullaby the silence into sleep
I wonder quite how deep
the memory recalls.

(c) A Mc N