Category Archives: fog

Mornings After Harvest

After months without a view because of the beautiful, tall cornfields, the distant horizon can be a mesmerizing sight, filled with the smells and sounds of a different, yet familiar, place.

Looking east from where I live, the lagging warm temperatures of day create a hazy, foggy pastoral scene,  of a morning,  across the recently harvested cornfields  and it is a blessing in magnitude hearing the geese feeding frantically and invisibly until the fog lifts.  Then when the sun begins its rise, the shadowy glimpses of distant objects on the horizon command your every instinct as you look, listen and smell the uniquely, coming day.

You are alive and you have taken the time to notice it!  Have a great day and try not to take it for granted…..look, listen and smell of it….for you are blessed to be alive!

Mornings After Harvest

Across the trampled field of corn, filled with geese in the early morn’,
  the distant horizon peeks beneath the fog
that partially hides the distant train headed north in a misty rain
  as my ears pick up the howl of a farmer’s dog
chasing geese along the fence, in and out of a fog, so dense,
  the geese themselves don’t know which way to go.
And all you hear are gaggle screams, like those heard…. in nightmarish dreams,
  as a lifting fog exposes the new day’s glow.

That’s how it is each country morn’, looking east where once was corn,
  across the fields now flattened for the plow
that soon will turn the stubble down exposing all the black and brown
  after feeding every deer and bird and cow
that lurk and wait for harvest day so they can romp and eat and play
  before the winter winds begin to blow
and life again is cold and harsh; birds all dreaming of the southern marsh,
  and the rest of us await the coming snow.

copyright 2013 t. j. gargano

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Fairy Rescue

Personally, I think it is good to mix a little of one’s self into one’s kind of flattery –   create a little doubt, mix a little fantasy into the reality mix.  We have to be a little dizzy once in a while since were spinning around the sun at roughly 67,000 miles per hour.  hehe    Have a great day!!

So, I’m Not Right

I saw her lying by the road
all ‘puddled’  by the rain
and standing by her was a toad
up leaning on a cane
cautiously looking all around
to see just who would come
saying something I could not hear
o’er the beating drum
that now had just begun to beat
in tones I barely heard
as noisy leaves fell on my feet
as squeals came from a bird
swooping down now where she lays
close to the thrusting cane
the toad is waving aimlessly
scowling with disdain.

The darkness of the misty morn’
can’t hide the loudening drum
as fairies come from the field of corn;
the drum beat now a 
They wave away her guardian knight
and lift her on a leaf
and away they fly in the misty dawn
taking my belief.
There’s always someone standing by
to tell you, you’re not right
when using words that seem to lie
making others feel uptight.
It’s not that you are being bad
but it’s scary ‘cause you’re bold
after all, there might be an ounce of truth
in the story you just told.

© copyright 2013  t. j. gargano

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“Fairy Hill”

The fog was thick this morning, playing its usual tricks on eyes and minds that weren’t seeing what they usually see.

Sometimes you see ‘other’ things in the fog or on its other side.  Have you noticed how your senses re-act when normal conditions in a certain space are altered  –  like driving to town and it’s blacked out….an eerie feeling enters your mind and body….the norm is not….fear alerts you.

Driving in fog that is up to your windshield is breathtakingly scary…it nearly immobilizes you.  We don’t know what we see….we sometimes try to help our eyes by guessing or thinking we see something….our mind races, knowing not where it’s going or from where it’s  coming…. everything is ‘clouded.’  We fear ‘checkmate.’

Fairy Hill

Foggy mornings, “they’ll”  sometimes show
and if you look real hard, you will see the glow
through the inner logs at the base of the hill,
and don’t be surprised if “one” flies around
and checks the perimeter from the top on down.

One morning I saw her, on the ground, near the road
singing and dancing in a puddle, for a toad,
who didn’t  seem that interested; more bothered, I’d say
‘cause he wanted a drink and she wanted to dance
and wanted him to watch her, though it was taking a chance.

But the next thing I saw was her backing up slow
and pointing her finger at the toad, to go
and get a drink and then get out
‘cause she wanted to get back in and finish her song
which she did, and she waved, as the toad got along.

Then I saw what was fire, at the base of the hill,
and out came a fairy in a bright colored twill
outfit, that glistened and shined so brightly, it blinded
me and when I could see again , there must have been ten
fairies dancing and playing ‘round the puddle, by then.

And, as usual, my camera was too far away
and I thought I saw, Jolie, who I saw that day
when she danced and frolicked to the dragonfly’s beat,
then flew towards the sun when I ran to the stream
perchance to get closer to this recurring dream.

The screech sound was eerie from the hawk up high
who angled down sharply, down from the sky,
toward the puddle, by the road, where the fairies all danced,
now scurrying around quickly to dress and to dry
for their wings that, if wet, won’t allow them to fly.

But then what I saw, I didn’t see any more
for the fog now had thickened right down to the floor
of grass that surrounded the logs on the pile.
And even the puddle, full of life, now was still
and everyone was safe again…. out on Fairy Hill.

copyright © 2012 T.J. Gargano


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