In Fog from Liminal by Weary Valley

In fog I awake.
Wet, I am emerging from the
deep, dark, blue, black water. Slowly
I rise
as behind a whale is sinking.
Did I filter through briny baleen?
Did the whale allow this
escaping?
Slowly, purposefully I wade the blue, black water.
The future withdrew from my thinking

In fog. I awake.
Cold, I hear crunching gravel underfoot.
My foot. My feet.
Slowly walking a long, narrow, white, gray gravel path
a spine under an arch of
boughs
heavy with leaf and dew.
Slowly, purposefully walking.
The past will withdraw from my thinking.

A sylvan path
Ending in glade
Standing in shadow
Leviathan looms

• Folk
• basement folk
• bedroom folk
• funeral folk
• indie
• lofi
• Chicago