Poem: Cool White Blindness

Cool White Blindness

Early morning, and you know, somewhere,
the summit awaits, somewhere
there is a path up the mountain, even
if fog obscures the ridgeline, somewhere
there is sun, and
you are faced with a choice:
wait for the sun
to burn away the fog, hoping
that it does not instead turn
to rain, or walk,
blindly
into the mist.

You step forward,
half in fear,
half in anticipation, into
the cool white blindness.

================

The picture was taken near Pawlet, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom