Moonbeams dance across the pond

rippling coffee, nearing dawn

 

a hush arose within the din

of crickets, birds and mice and then

 

a silent fog enshrouds our land

around folks driving, uttering “Damn!”

 

the concrete highways, quiet streets

enclosed by firs and cedars neat

 

along a dock no whisper heard

I sip my canteen undeterred

 

and pray the haze keep me from work

to rest in nature’s soupy murk

 

from a shelf, a book I snuck

and disappeared in dreams and rucks.

 

-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19