Poetry Blog: ‘Fog’

For around about the last month I’ve been off work, spending all day, every day at home courtesy of my latest brush with the cardiology department at my local hospital.

As part of my recovery, for almost all of the time that I’ve been at home, I’ve been going on a daily walk in order to build my fitness back up. Living in northern England means that it’s very cold at this time of year, so I’ve been forced to brave all weathers. When it’s rained and been freezing cold at the same time, it’s been horrible to walk in, especially when your body doesn’t want to be bothered. But, on days like the last couple when it’s bright and sunny, there’s something amazingly refreshing about walking in the cold.

Last week it felt like we were shrouded in fog for the entire week. It was cold, but not unbearable. In a way it was miserable too. But what struck me most was how lovely and kind of mysterious everything looked. And so it was, that while I was sat up, wide awake in the early hours of one of the mornings, I wrote a poem about the fog.

'Fog'

Looking up the hill towards town, you appear, 
a blot on the landscape,
tough shoes to fill given the presence of a paint factory 
at the side of this particular road,
but you fill them and blighting a beautiful day
you begin to strangle the light 
a creeping of the cursor down the screen,
deleting the optimism of a crisp winter's morning,
cancelling the order of light
and replacing it with not quite darkness, but a curtained haze
that disastrously alters the appearance of everything.
Later, diving out for some morning exercise
I try in vain to catch the sun through your veil, achieving only rare glimpses that turn this familiar sight
into an alien land, an unexplorable planet.
Still, it feels good to be alive, caught in the glare  of any number of incongruous headlights
and while dog walkers emerge unnervingly from the low cloud
their calls deadened by this slate grey wall,
I follow the path home to shelter once more from a different storm
and amble my way through another aimless day. 

So, those particular days looked different and as a result of the fog, felt different too. In a way, the fog broke up what was becoming a bit of a boring routine, when my health meant that I wasn’t able to break it up myself. It meant plenty of opportunities to stop – and in truth, catch my breath – and just have a gaze at how unfamiliar this familiar landscape now looked. So, although I would be walking a similar distance each day, I was able to stay out a while longer!

As ever, I hope you enjoyed the poem. Feel free to leave a comment, as they’re all much appreciated!