Ernest Knowles ©January 1975

I stand alone,

watching leafless branches silhouetted against the fog-shrouded light.

And water,

left on the trees by the just-finished rain,

Falls as droplets all around me.

Nearly soundless on the driveway surface,

they strike the brown wet and lifeless leaves,

dropped to the ground weeks ago as winter approached,

With the sound of a muted, crackling pine log fire.

It is late and quiet out here in the damp night.

And what was intended only as a walk with my dog,

has become a moment of loneliness, 

and need,

and thoughts of you.

The fog moves past my light at an almost imperceptible rate.

I learn from it,

and extend and savor my moment,

without regard for time or space.