Fog
Walking
by Mary Redman
by Mary Redman
I look
at the lake. Haze blots horizon,
a dock
juts into nothing, supported by air
like a
bread loaf in a surrealist painting.
My
boots kick up streams—I slosh
through
wetness, dew and dissolving surface
clouds
on grass. This muffled existence can’t last
long. Day
winks through in spots forcing
clarity,
while dreamlike
dalliance
keeps me sleeping as I stroll.
Bio: Mary Redman is a retired high school English
teacher who takes classes at the Indiana Writers Center. She works part time
supervising student teachers for two universities. She volunteers at the Indianapolis
Museum of Art and elsewhere in the community.